The Keeper
by PalyGirl
Summary: All Brienne ever wanted was to be a respected knight and serve a just king. The Gods, however, have a different plan for the Lady of Tarth. She must bring together their warriors, weapons and wisdom to defeat the Night King and Army of the Dead. The sworn sword will become the most powerful instrument in the Game of Throne.
1. Oath Keeper

**THE KEEPER**

**SUMMARY**: All Brienne ever wanted was to be a respected knight and serve a just king. Destiny, however, has different plans for the Lady of Tarth. This is her journey from Catelyn Stark's sworn sword to the most powerful player in the Game of Thrones.

**Chapter One: Oath Keeper**

The scent of sea, fish and smoke settled over Brienne like a comfortable blanket. The dock at Tarth was far smaller and quieter than here at Ragman's Harbor, but the scent was the same. Tarth had mostly fishermen and traders while the Braavosi harbor was a thriving community.

"Are you sure it was Arya?" Brienne looked around at the noisy, crowded dock. "We've come all this way to Braavos because you _claim_ to have seen Arya Stark board that boat."

"She looked like the same girl and she wore similar clothes." Podrick also looked around. "And you needed time to recover from beating the Hound."

People of all sizes and colors shared the dock. She had always stuck out in the small community at Tarth; too tall, too pale, too strong and too unfeminine to be accepted, even as the daughter of their lord. Here, she barely drew a second glance. Many men and even some women were taller than her, their coloring as varied as the goods and services they offered.

She looked over the powerful, dark-skinned, shirtless men offering curved fighting blades, the blue or green-haired tradesmen calling out their wares in multiple, indecipherable languages, white-haired but dewy-skinned women pressing nearly bared breasts against lecherous-eyed sailors, sun-burned, rag-dressed beggars and priests of every faith mingling in the masses.

"I don't see anyone who looks like her here." Brienne strode along the dock, allowing the wave of people to guide her up the pier.

"How can we find anyone in this crowd?" Podrick half walked, half ran to keep up with her longer strides. "Especially someone as small as that girl."

Brienne stopped abruptly and Podrick stumbled into her back. She grimaced but said nothing. He was right. Arya was tiny while the dock was huge. Braavos was the biggest shipping and trading center in Essos.

"Not everyone is as tall as you, my Lady, Ser," he continued. "Arya could duck down and we'd never see her."

Brienne turned in a full circle, the mass of people parting around her like water flowing around a rock. "We won't be able to find her here."

"So where do we find her, my Lady, Ser?"

"She's not here…yet."

It took her a moment to find the old man who'd spoken. The man was barefoot and poorly clad in seawater robes, looking at her expectantly.

"Were you speaking to me?" she asked.

The old man nodded. "You are searching for a grey-eyed wolf, aren't you?"

She glanced over at Podrick who looked as confused as she felt, his eyebrows pulled together and mouth open in a rounded circle.

"How did you know?" she demanded, moving closer to the old man.

He didn't appear intimidated by her build or her glare, steadily remaining in place as he studied her unfeminine shirt and breeches, worn boots and heavy sword belt with calm acceptance.

"I know many things." The man was small, his skin wrinkled and darkened by the sun, his body bent and shrunken with age. "The Gods have been waiting for you."

"For me?" Brienne's eyebrows rose. "What is a priest of the Ironborn doing in Braavos and telling me of other Gods? You're a long way from home, old man."

"Aye," he agreed. "I've travelled all this way and summoned you here for a message of grave importance."

Again, she exchanged confused glances with Podrick. Her young squire moved closer to her side as though expecting to protect her from the feeble priest.

"_You_ summoned me? How?" She put her hand on _Oathkeeper's_ pommel, an unconscious gesture of warning and self-defense.

"By showing you what you wanted to see." The priest forced his body to straighten, to meet her gaze. "A great and terrible night will soon overtake the lands, including the Iron Islands. We must all, men and Gods, work together to protect the people."

Brienne frowned. "Speak clearly, old man. Your words make no sense."

"I've seen the past, the present and the future. There are five visions, five keys." He held up a gnarled forefinger. "I've seen a lion roar and a wolf escape its jaws."

Brienne stiffened, not daring to look at Podrick.

The priest held up his second finger. "A bird snatched the wolf. The bird dashed the wolf against icy, unyielding ground."

He paused as if expecting her to comment. She remained silent, her lips pressed into a bloodless line.

The priest's third finger could barely unbend. "The wolf struggled against blood-red figures."

She nodded, indicating for him to continue.

The priest held up four aged fingers. "A large blue dragon flew towards the wolf."

Brienne sucks in a deep breath. "A dragon?"

"Aye." The priest waved his hand to draw her attention to the five outstretched digits. "The dragon became smaller; it's wings contracted and it became a woman with pale gold hair and blue armor."

She finally looked at Podrick again. He blinked back at her, his expression blank, as if the information is too much for him to process.

Brienne turned back to the priest. "A lion and a wolf? You've seen this?"

"Aye, the events are already in motion, aren't they?" He folded his hands together. "Destiny has already put you on your path. You must go to Tyrosh to find what you seek."

"Tyrosh? But I've just gotten to Braavos." She waved to the large ship in the harbor, passengers still passing them up the dock. "How can Arya already be in Tyrosh?"

The old man sighed. "I'm not a learned man. The saltwater trance only provides visions. Many priests have seen the same vision so it must be truth."

Brienne shook her head. "Are you sure your message is for me?"

"Yes. Only you can do what must be done." A minute change came over the priest; a slight sharpening of his eyes, an almost imperceptible strengthening of formerly brittle bones. "Look carefully. You must see what is not seen."

The moment was gone, the old man looked weak and feeble again. "The Gods will guide you but you must complete this journey. Be strong, Brienne of Tarth, for you are on the path of a mighty destiny."

She stepped back, the sincerity in his eyes creating an energy field around him. "How do you know my name?"

"You are chosen. Your destiny was foretold in the stars before you were born." He moved back, allowing the crowd to separate them. "Hurry, Brienne of Tarth. The reign of the Night Queen will soon begin."


	2. Dock Keeper

**THE KEEPER**

**Chapter 2: Dock Keeper**

Brienne stood as still as stone on the busy dock. Podrick stared at where the old priest had been a moment ago, before being swallowed by the crowd.

"What are you thinking, my Lady, Ser? Are we going to Tyrosh?"

"What he said made no sense." Brienne spoke slowly, still processing the old man's words. "But he knew my name."

"Perhaps he knew to look for you," Podrick suggested.

"But why? There's nothing special about me." She looked around, as if searching for inspiration. "Why would anyone think I hadve a special destiny?"

Podrick also looked around. "Can we discuss this elsewhere, my Lady, Ser? Hopefully a place where the floor doesn't shift under our feet and where our meal isn't pickled fish?"

She blinked, finally seeing how tired and worn out her young squire truly looked. His skin had the grey pallor of a man unaccustomed to the constant motions of waves. The dark circles around his eyes were testament to the nights without sleep guarding his injured companion.

"Yes, we can." Her eyes softened. "I thank you for your care during our trip."

"Thank you, my Lady, Ser." His smile made his face glow even in the dusk of the setting sun. "I'm glad to be of service to you."

They picked up their bags and walked into the first semi-clean inn they found. Fortunately, the walk was short as the busy dock had many options. A short time later, they were seated in the dining hall, tearing into hunks of bread and mutton.

"I've been thinking." Podrick licked meat juice off his fingers. "I believe what the old priest said. Not only did he know your name, but he also knew about your search for Sansa Stark. Only Ser Jamie knew about your oath."

"Keep your voice down," she admonished. "We don't know who could be listening."

"I'm sorry, my Lady, Ser." He lowered his voice and crouched down, at if it would help muffle his voice. "Why would anyone want to send you to Tyrosh unless it was for a good reason?"

"Maybe he wants to distract us, send us in the wrong direction?"

"If so, then wouldn't he send us back to Westeros?"

"That's true. Tyrosh is the closest port to Westeros. In fact, it's across from Tarth. The journey across is less than two day, unlike the eight days it took for us to cross from Gulltown."

"Well, maybe that's how he knows you. There must be a great deal of trade between Tyrosh and Tarth."

She chewed thoughtfully. "It's possible, even though I haven't been home since I left to serve Renly Baratheon."

"So do we continue to search for Arya?"

She looked at him carefully. His skin was no longer grey and his eyes were brighter though still circled dark with exhaustion.

"No, I'll ask around at the docks. You will have a hot bath and a good night's sleep in a bed that doesn't rock. We'll leave at first light to find passage to Tyrosh."

The next morning, Brienne set down her bags and glared at the man holding out a copper piece to her. From the corner of her eye, she could see Podrick grin widely then duck his head to hide his smile.

"No." Her voice was flat and hard.

The man dug into his worn, dirty purse and pulled out another copper. He held them both up, the dull metal made shiny in the morning sunlight. She shook her head vigorously.

"No." She waved her hand up and down to indicate her body then curled her hand so only her first finger is extended. She rocked it from side to side. "Not for sale."

The man's face fell. He looked lustfully at her long legs encased in her worn breeches. He said something in a foreign tongue. Brienne repeated her 'no' gesture. Finally, the man sighed, put his coins back in his purse and moved on, glancing longingly back at her. She glared at his retreating back until he was safely away from them.

"Stop smiling," she ordered her squire, not needing to look at him.

"I'm sorry, _my Lady_." Podrick dutifully smoothed out his smile but couldn't hide the twinkle in his eyes. "He's the third man who has attempted to buy you in the past hour. I believe the whores across the way are angry with you."

She looked over to where he'd tilted his head. The trio of barely-dressed women glared at her. Brienne sighed and turned back to her squire.

"They're not trying to buy me because I'm a woman. Look at me." She waved her hand up and down her body again. "Do I look like the kind of woman men would buy to bed?"

Podrick shrugged, far too smart to comment.

"They want me because I'm strong and would make a good worker." She shaded her eyes to look down the row of ships. "None of these ships will take passengers."

"Maybe we can offer to work," he suggested. "There must be ships taking goods down the Narrow Sea. They may not take passengers, but they might take good workers. And…" his grin returned. "…you're clearly very popular on the docks."

She scowled at him but only briefly. They hadn't had any luck buying a place on a ship. Perhaps her too tall, too strong, too masculine body would gain them work on a south-bound ship.

"Look for a ship that's ready to cast off."

"Cast off?" Podrick repeated. "What does that mean?"

She shook her head and scanned the dock herself. _There_. Further down the pier was a ship raising its masts, workers lugging heavy crates into the gaping hull. Brienne grabbed her bags and strode down the pier in her ground-eating strides. She heard Podrick puffing behind her. He'd catch up.

A man stood at the end of the gangway, supervising the cargo being loaded, his back to her. His sleeveless shirt showed off golden skin and hard, corded muscles. He was taller than her, easily clearing her six-foot-three height, with brilliant blue hair that glowed almost indigo in the bright morning light.

"Sir," she called out. "Might you have room for two more hard workers on your ship? We need to get to -"

The man turned around and she sputtered to a stop. He was young, probably close to her age, with the most perfectly formed features she'd ever seen. His eyes were such a dark blue they were almost black, his cheekbones razor sharp, his nose balanced with military precision and his lush mouth should have graced a pampered princess, not a dock worker.

"Where are you going?" he asked.

Even his voice was perfect, smooth and melodious, seductive and commanding. She opened and closed her mouth, unable to form words.

"Were you speaking to me?" He looked her up and down carefully.

With effort, she ripped her gaze from him and looked down at the rough, worn planks under her feet. The hot blush covered her from head to toe but she forced herself to speak.

"Tyrosh." Her voice sounded as rough and coarse ats the wood planks. "My friend and I will work for passage to Tyrosh."

He didn't speak. She knew he was studying her, taking in her many faults. She closed her eyes, prepared for the harsh words she'd heard all her life. _Are you really a woman? I've never seen one as ugly as you. _

"I see you have a sword," he finally said. "Can you fight?"

She nods nodded but doesn't didn't speak. Brienne was thankful she'd covered the distinctive lion's head pommel after her disastrous run-in with the Hound. She might have already secured Arya Stark if she'd only hidden the Lannister sigil.

She could see Podrick out of the corner of her downcast eyes. He frowned at her thean turned to the man.

"Yes, of course she can fight," he said proudly. "My lady is one of the greatest fighters in all of Westeros. She has defeated men no one else had ever been able to defeat."

"Is that right?" The man sounded amused.

"She did." Podrick's voice hardened with insistence. "In fact, she was a Kingsguard, an honor she won after a melee where she beat even the King's existing guards."

The man laughed. "Can she prove it?"

Brienne looked up then, her eyes blazing. Men had always laughed at her – until she'd put them in the dirt. This one would be no different. She would show him as she'd shown every other man before him.

"Yes, I can."

This time her voice was strong and sure, strengthened with her lifelong rage at the injustices of the world. Who was he to laugh at her? He was a man of such fine, beautiful features he should have been born a maid. Here she stood, so coarse and broad, a maid who should have been a man. She wasn't a man, but she was still a _warrior_.

The man blinked, as though seeing her with new clarity. He held out his hand. "My name is Griff. Who are you?"

"I a'm Brienne of Tarth." She gripped his forearm, a warrior's greeting, not the delicate hand-holding reserved for ladies of the royal courts. "He's Podrick Payne."

Griff's hand was rough and calloused, his grip strong and steady, just like hers. "Alright, Brienne of Tarth. Meet me back in here in one hour. Be ready to prove yourself. If you do, we'll find a place for you on a ship going to Tyrosh."

She nodded and released his arm. He didn't release hers. Instead he stepped closer. "Don't fail me, Brienne of Tarth. You won't like the consequences."

"I never fail." She yanked her arm free.

He was strong enough that the act didn't cause his body to sway. Instead, he curled his fist and covered it with his other hand, as though holding something precious. His perfect mouth curved into a delighted smile. _Beauty_. That was his weapon, so sharp and well-used, the actions were unconscious.

But she had a powerful weapon, too. _Oathkeeper_ could cut through anything, even a man who must have been crafted by the Maiden herself. Every man bled, every man fell, to her Valyrian steel.


	3. Fight Keeper

**THE KEEPER**

**Chapter 3: Fight Keeper**

Brienne and Podrick returned to the dock an hour later. This time Podrick was faster since she was weighed down by her armor.

"It's gone!" he cried out. "The ship is gone."

The ship they'd seen docked earlier was indeed gone. Another ship swayed in its place but this one appeared empty.

"Of course, it's gone," Griff drawled from behind them. "Did you think we'd keep an entire shipping vessel in harbor just for you?"

She turned to face him, graceful now that she had the armor to hide her usual clumsy form. Griff strode down the planks, followed by two men even more colorful than him, more colorful and even taller. Both men had unnaturally red hair and a king's ransom in gold arm rings from their left wrists almost to their elbows. Brienne was used to towering over others but now she was forced to look up to meet their eyes.

She pushed back her helm. "You said we'd have passage to Tyrosh if I could prove I was a good fighter."

"Aye, you will." One of the men, his red beard tied into three points with gold beads, nodded. "First you show us what you can do then we put you on a ship."

The third man, even taller than the other two, scratched his dark-stubbled jaw. "Oye, Griff, you said the fighter would be a woman. This one's no woman."

Brienne scowled, which didn't make her features any more feminine, and pulled off her helm. "I may not be your idea of a woman but I'm a strong fighter. I'll prove it."

"Easy, Tristan." Griff leaned against a pole. "You're insulting a former Kingsguard."

"Kingsguard, eh? They got women guarding their kings now? No wonder they're all dead. I hear they're down to one Baratheon whelp left." Tristan spat on the dock near Brienne's foot. "Rumor has it, he's not even really a stag but the Kingslayer's bastard."

Podrick stiffened beside her but didn't speak. Brienne put her hand on _Oathkeeper_, assuring herself the pommel was safely covered.

"Are we here to fight or gossip?" She gritted her teeth. "Which of you am I to beat?"

The three-point bearded man laughed. "Not in all that metal, you're not. This is Essos. You only wear armor if you want to cook in the sun or drown in the sea."

Tristan guffawed too while Griff pulled away from the pole. He nimbly jumped onto the deck of the ship beside them. He bowed to her, left hand behind his back, right hand held out to her, a perfect show of courtly grace.

"It seems you're overdressed for the occasion, my Lady." He'd added a sword belt but was still in his sleeveless shirt and light breeches.

"I'm no lady," she snapped, the reflex ingrained.

She ignored his hand and clambered on board. Tristan guffawed again as he boarded, lightly shoving Griff so he stood upright again.

"Really? That's what your friend called you." Griff nods to Podrick, who carefully, gingerly crossed the threshold. "No matter. I'm the fastest sword in the free cities. You don't stand a chance against me with or without all that weight."

"Podrick, help me with my fastenings." Whatever shyness she'd felt when she's first met this man was gone. Now there was only the drive to prove herself, to fight the battle she never won, no matter how often or how honorably she fought.

It took Podrick only a moment to help her out of the shiny blue armor. He gathered up the panels and moved away, setting the pieces down on the hardwood deck and crouching down beside them.

She unfastened her sword belt and withdrew _Oathkeeper_. Her clothes were already sticky with sweat, clinging unpleasantly to her back and shoulders. She handed the belt to Podrick and shrugged her shoulders to loosen them.

"Who first, Serjeant?" Tristan asked, now looking her up and down with more interest.

"Griff," Serjeant said. "She's got a fine Valyrian steel sword. Let's see how it fares against _Firestorm_."

Brienne stared at the long, slim sword Griff withdrew from his belt. Unlike _Oathkeeper's_ ornate pommel, _Firestorm_ had a simple swirl design with a flame at the end and gold flame licks jutting from the hilt. The oval centerpiece was empty. Even without a jewel, the sword was magnificent, long and slim, lightly balanced in Griff's hand.

"Shall we dance?" He repeated his bow, left hand behind his back, sword pointed to the deck, as graceful as a lady, as courtly as a prince.

She raised _Oathkeeper_ and nodded. He tapped his sword against hers and she attacked. Her usual approach was to aim straight at the body to disarm her opponent before he could react. She twisted her blade in a tight circle around his sword to yank it from his hand. Griff pulled back, his hold straight and firm followed by a hard thrust that would have struck her if she hadn't blocked it with brute strength. Next, she pushed forward aggressively, trying to knock him off balance. He leaned out, so her shoulder just brushed his chest and threw _her_ off balance. He struck fast but her strength saved her again, allowing her to knock aside this blow, too.

She normally wore down her opponents with her stamina but he wouldn't allow her to steady herself, causing her to waste energy keeping her balance. She jumped back at his next thrust and finally found an opening. Instead of going up, aiming for his body, she went in low, forcing him to shuffle to avoid her blade. He brought his sword down to block the blow and she shoved her shoulder under his chin, shutting his mouth with an audible snap. He stumbled back.

"First blood to you, my Lady." He smiled to show off his bloody teeth. "Enjoy it. You won't get another hit on me."

His next thrust was straight on, forcing her to use the same awkward downward block that had left him open. But she was solid and held her balance. She'd barely taken a desperately needed breath before he shoved his sword straight up, using his strength to throw her back. She stumbled a few steps and he advanced with a series of lightning strikes that forced her to use both hands to keep _Oathkeeper_ in her grip. Then he twisted, getting his leg behind hers and she went down.

"Yield?" He asked, breathing as heavily as she did.

"No!" she snarled, rolling away and springing to her feet. "I still have my sword."

"And a fine sword it is," he agreed. "I might have to claim it when I defeat you."

"You can try, but you won't take my sword." She thrust again, double-handed, this time striking up, trying to break his grip on _Firestorm_.

His grip was true. But she was wearing him down. Sweat covered him, making him glow in the hot midday sun, forcing him to use his left hand to swipe his wet hair out of his eyes.

She snorted. "Perhaps you'd be a better swordsman if you cut your hair in a more practical manner."

She shook her head to throw off the sweat, her shorn locks falling into her forehead but not long enough to block her vision.

"I don't want to be practical." He twirled, sword raised high, so fast she could barely see his feet moving. Suddenly they were shoulder to shoulder. "Then how would I be unforgettable?"

She struck at him but he twirled away, again moving so fast she couldn't follow his feet. His steps were so quick and so light he seemed to be dancing, not fighting. Instead of his feet, she watched his upper body, trying to anticipate his next move, determined not to let him lead her. Then his style changed, slowing down, less flamboyant, more disciplined.

It took her a moment to catch his rhythm, to match his steps then suddenly they _were_ dancing, their Valyrian steel sparking against each other as they twisted and turned, thrusted and parried, neither giving nor gaining ground. They tested each other for weaknesses, his speed again her strength, his grace against her balance, his assurance against her determination, their gasps audible, their sweat raining down onto each other.

"That's enough." Serjeant grunted, a quarter hour later. "We don't have all day to watch you prance around."

Brienne and Griff stumbled away from each other, both unsteady and breathing hard, soaked in their own and the other's sweat. Podrick brought her waterskin. She drank it down quickly, nearly choking as she tried to drink and breathe at the same time, not caring that water ran down her face and neck. The coolness was welcome after the long, frustrating fight.

"My Lady, Ser, are you okay?" Podrick slapped her on the back.

She nodded but kept her focus on Griff. He watched her with a narrow-eyed gaze and a hard, straight mouth. Then he frowned and turned away, vaulting the railing in a single smooth motion. His gaze held hers as he disappeared from view.

Her mouth fell open. "Did he…did he just jump overboard?"

Serjeant shook his head and muttered under his breath.

"Ha! The boy had to cool off." Tristan barked out laughter.

"Should we help him?" Podrick looked over the rail. "I don't see him below."

Tristan was now rolling on the deck, laughing so hard he had to hold his stomach. Even Serjeant cracked a smile.

"He's part fish. He'll be fine." Serjeant glanced over the side. "He's not used to losing."

"He didn't lose," Brienne muttered. "You stopped our fight."

"It was a draw," Serjeant corrected. "For Griff, that's as bad as losing." He glared at Tristan. "Get up, fool. It's your turn."

It took Tristan a moment to catch his breath. Then he stood up, towering over Brienne. His smile showed a mouthful of broken teeth.

"Let's see how long you can hold up against Tristan," Serjeant said. "He's not as fast as Griff but he's ten times stronger."

"Aye," Tristan agreed. "The pretty boy takes down men while I battle elephants."

Serjeant snorted. "Maybe a dwarf elephant just weaned from its mother's teat."

Tristan's face turned dull red and Brienne readied herself for a hard beating. She'd fought men like him before, accustomed to using their brute strength instead of tactic to beat their opponents. They didn't like being challenged and liked being challenged by women even less.

Tristan cracked his knuckles. "I've never hurt a woman before. I'll stop when you say you had enough."

Brienne stared at him. She'd never met a man who _didn't_ like hurting women, especially women they feared could hurt them in return.

"Fine," she agreed then lifted her chin. "And I'll stop when _you_ say you've had enough."

He snorted and hunkered down, shoulders rounded, arm muscles bulging. She was too seasoned to fall for the easy ploy of attacking him head-on. Instead she feigned left, waited for him to shift his stance, then delivered a hard punch to his midsection. He barely reacted; the blow didn't hurt him in the least. For Brienne, it was like hitting a practice dummy wrapped in cloth; hard enough to reverberate up her arm but not hard enough to break bones.

He hit her body with a straight lower cut, square in her abdomen. The air rushed out of her lungs and her midsection ached, but his arm was still controlled. He _had_ tempered the blow. Tristian had been serious about stopping, waiting for her to nod before he advanced.

But nod she did and advance he did. She dodged the next blow but wasn't so lucky a third time. This one caught her shoulder, sending her stumbling back. Her well-honed strength and balance kept her from falling but she'd lost all ground. Again, he straightened and waited for her to signal she wanted to keep fighting.

She nodded and came out swinging, a series of sharp blows to his midsection that seemed to hurt her more than him. Her arms ached and her hands burned but he only grunted, absorbing her blows. Then he caught her with an upper cut under her jawline that snapped her head back so hard she saw stars. She stumbled away but he remained where he was, waiting for her reaction.

No man had ever shown her such restraint or had as much self-mastery over himself. Even the most mild-mannered man turned into a beast when challenged, the desire to dominate and punish a woman who dared go against him too great to control. Tristan, for his massive bulk and hardened face, was more noble than men who'd called themselves knights.

But his gallantry was also a weakness, one she could exploit to end this battle while she could still stand. She nodded again and he straightened. She time, she went low and kicked at his leg. He didn't move aside but absorbed the blow, using both hands on her shoulders to push her back. He advanced and she tried again. This time his hands hit her breastbone, making her stumble back a few steps.

He waited until she nodded and advanced again. She skipped back, out of his reach. He kept gaining ground, until the ship's railing pressed against her back. He grinned. She grinned back at him. Suddenly she went down to her knees, kicking his leg out, lower this time since she now knew where to kick. He fell forward, onto her back, but she was ready. She pressed her hands to the deck, catching his full weight. She used her arms and the railing at her side to push herself back up, the brute still on her back. She twisted hard and he tumbled off her back, over the side and into the murky water.

Tristan fell with such a hard splash the water sprayed her. She wrinkled her nose at the foul smell then turned when she heard laughter and clapping. Podrick was clapping energetically while Griff, who had apparently re-boarded during the fight, applauded with less enthusiasm, probably because he was too busy laughing.

"Excellent work, my Lady," he said. "Tristan truly needed the bath. Of course, now the water will stink like him."

Brienne turned to Serjeant to gage his reaction. He nodded then leaned over the side to look down into the murky water.

"That's too bad," he said. "Now she has to go in, too."

"What?" Brienne straightened. She looked from Serjeant to Griff then back again. "Why?"

"You're working on a ship in the sea," Serjeant pointed out. "Show me you can swim and handle yourself in the water."

She sighed but nodded. Like Griff had done before her, she vaulted the railing and dropped into the water below. She'd dived from the cliffs on Tarth all her life, so her body instinctively knew to tighten and straighten. She could easily have bobbed back to the surface but stayed low and swam underwater to the other side of the pier. Her thin shirt, breeches and waterlogged boots were dead weight as she hauled herself up.

"My Lady, Ser!" Podrick called out. She heard a loud splash. "My Lady, Ser! Where are you?"

She looked up, blinking rapidly to wash the filthy, stinging water out of her eyes. But Podrick wasn't at her side as she had expected. She dragged herself up and crossed the dock. Podrick was in the water, where she'd splashed down, waving his arms frantically, churning water in every direction.

"Podrick!" she yelled down to him. "What are you doing?"

"Rescuing you." He turned to her and stopped moving his arms. Immediately, he sank below the water.

"For Gods's sake!" She dove back in beside him.

He didn't fight her when she wrapped her arm around his waist and propelled them up to break the surface. She swam back to the dock where Griff was on his knees, reaching out to help her. Together, they dragged Podrick out of the water.

"Why did you jump in when you can't swim?" she demanded.

Podrick coughed and spit out sea water. "I can swim, but not like you." He coughed again. "You were under for so long I feared you needed help."

Griff pounded him on the back, forcing Podrick to cough and spit some more. "My friend, you're loyal but not too smart. Does she look like she needs help? And how were you planning to pull her out of the water?"

Podrick shook his head, looking small and miserable. Serjeant appeared beside them. He handed Brienne a gold piece in the shape of a pyramid. It was the size of a coin but unlike any she'd seen before. One side was impressed with the image of an elephant's head, the second side a dragon's head, the third side a horse's head while the last depicted a skull.

She turned it over it her fingers. "What's this?"

"Show it at the inn at the top of the quay, the _Gold House_," Serjeant ordered. "They'll give you a hot bath and a hot meal. Be back here in two hours. We leave with or without you."

"We're hired?" Brienne asked. "You'll take us to Tyrosh?"

"Aye." Serjeant nodded at the piece. "You just earned a place with the _Golden Company_."


	4. Sea Keeper

**THE KEEPER**

**Chapter 4: Sea Keeper**

"I can't believe we're wearing these." Podrick's voice was barely above a whisper. "We're wearing the uniform of the _Golden Company._"

He smoothed down the golden tunic he wore over his clean shirt and breeches, looking bright and freshly scrubbed and far too excited. He skipped to keep up with Brienne. She also looked down at his tunic.

"I can't believe we're wearing them, either." Her tone was distinctly sour. "I don't understand what Serjeant was thinking."

"He was thinking we'd be proud to wear the sign of the bravest, strongest and most disciplined fighting company in Essos." Podrick finally caught sight of her deep scowl. "You're not pleased, my Lady, Ser?"

"How does he expect us to capture pirates when we announce our presence with these ridiculous garments?" Brienne shook her own tunic, as if hoping the bright golden-yellow would fall off the shimmery, silken material.

"He must have a plan. The _Golden Company_ is famous for never breaking a contract and always completing their service," Podrick pointed out. "They wouldn't have their reputation if their word wasn't as good as gold." He paused and the awestruck expression returned. "And now we are a part of them."

Brienne stopped walking, forcing him to skid to a stop. The dock was busy with midday workers, tradesmen and merchants. Even so, everyone gave them a respectful distance, eyeing the obvious golden tunics, careful not to touch or meet the gaze of the most fearsome warriors in Essos. She ignored them to focus on Podrick.

"We are not part of them." Brienne kept her voice low. "We are only working on their ship to get to Tyrosh as quickly as possible. Our goal is to find Arya Stark, not chase glory down the Narrow Sea."

Podrick nodded. "Yes, my Lady, Ser, but isn't it only right we give them fair effort while we're with them?"

She stood very straight. "Of course. It would be dishonorable to fail our side of the bargain."

His grin rivaled the sun. "Then we _are_ part of the _Golden Company_ until we dock in Tyrosh."

She scowled but nodded. They walked on to where Serjeant stood on the dock, his back to them, yelling orders to men wearing the highly visible gold tunics. He turned his head and grunted at them when they stopped beside them.

"You're finally here,' he observed.

"Exactly when ordered to appear," Brienne pointed out.

"Can I be of assistance, Ser Serjeant?" Podrick asked. "I can help carry in supplies."

"Don't call me 'ser', I'm not a knight," Serjeant ordered. "We're all officers in the Company. Serjeant is my rank. My name is Loth but you call me Serjeant, not Ser Serjeant, understood?"

Podrick flushed. "I'm sorry, Serjeant, ser. I meant no disrespect."

"Stand up straight, boy," Serjeant ordered. "You're now part of the most elite brotherhood of exiles in the known world."

"Brotherhood of exiles," Brienne repeated. "Do you still consider yourself Westerosi?"

"Aye," Serjeant agreed. "Some of our men are exiles or sons of exiles. They'd kill for the chance to retrieve the lands and titles they've lost." His eyes narrowed. "Many are descendants of the Stormlands, like you."

Brienne nodded. "Perhaps the day will come when you'll be welcomed back home."

Serjeant turned back to watch the ship. "Until then, we train, fight and maintain our reputation. That's also why we accepted this contract."

"To train your forces to fight at sea?" Brienne questioned.

Serjeant's head turned sharply to look at her. "What do you know about that?"

"I know the _Golden Company_ is the greatest fighting force on land, with men, horses and war elephants. But elephants and horses are useless in the sea." Brienne paused to watch his face flush. "Plus, there are additional enemies on the water, including disease and sickness. It isn't enough that your men are undefeated on land. You must master the seas if you want to build the company to truly be the greatest fighting force in the world."

Serjeant nodded. "Our land force is unbeatable but we don't have a naval presence – yet."

"And you won't with these blindingly bright tunics," Brienne pointed out.

Serjeant scowled. "The gold is our symbol; smooth, clean, with no allegiances to any house or family but the one we chose to join."

'Beneath the gold, the bitter steel'. Brienne recalled their motto. Under the shine of their obvious wealth, the discipline of their perfectly regimented men, and the drama of their war elephants was the unbending steel of the g_reatest free company in the known world._

"A fearsome sight indeed," Brienne agreed, "when you're charging an oncoming army but utterly useless when you're trying to trap serpents and eels."

Serjeant straightened. "What?"

"How many pirate ships have you crushed, how many pirates have you captured while flashing your ridiculous warning signal?" Brienne straightened to try to match his considerable height.

Serjeant scowled. "Their ships are smaller, lighter and faster than the ones we protect. But," he loomed over her again, "the ones we do protect haven't suffered a single attack. Our master-of-ships, a former Lyseni pirate, is developing a strategy for taking down pirates."

"So, until then you'll allow your men to be guards instead of warriors? How will they learn to fight at sea if they don't engage the enemy?" she asked calmly, refusing to be intimidated.

"Do you have a plan to engage pirates?" he demanded. "Better than a former Lyseni pirate?"

"What does a pirate know about taking out other pirates?" she demanded. "I lived on an island all of my life. Pirate attacks are common. We had to learn how to stop them, quickly and immediately, as we didn't have a full company of the greatest fighters in the world to save us."

"Our way will be better; efficient and clean." Serjeant insisted.

"But your way doesn't exist yet. Until it does, your master-of-ship's plans are just words." Her mouth curled. "And words are wind."

He stood tall, hands on hips. "What do you propose?"

"Do you have a ram ship?" she shot back.

He blinked. "What?"

"Can you get a ship that will hold one hundred men, weapons and supplies? One that looks like a good target for pirates?"

Serjeant nodded slowly. "Yes."

She nodded in return. "And do you have a good blacksmith who will build a weapon without asking questions?"

He snorted. "Of course."

"Take me to him." She pulled off the golden tunic. "And take this. We won't warn anyone of our approach. The men need to look like ordinary workers, not fighters."

He took the tunic. "Have you done this before?"

Her smile was savage with anticipation. "Many, many times."

Two days later, Brienne stood on the deck of the _Sea Keeper_, watching the calm seas around them. Griff and Podrick stood beside her at the ship's rail.

"How long before we reach Tyrosh?" she asked Griff.

"Three days. We have calm waters and good headwind today." He also looked around. "But no pirates."

"Yesterday wasn't a good day, the waters were rough and choppy," she pointed out. "They won't attack when they can't board the ship they want to raid."

"I can understand that." Podrick held the rail with both hands, his complexion pale and a bit green.

"Pod, why don't you lie down below deck?" Griff suggested.

"I'm better today," the squire insisted. "The calm waters and fresh air help."

"Ships on starboard port!" the lookout called.

"How many?" Griff shouted up.

"Three," the lookout reported. "One main ship and two small boats with oars."

"The small boats are their lookouts," Brienne explained. "They'll check to see if we have protection and to determine if our ship is worth attacking."

Serjeant came to join them, dressed in the same dull shirt and breeches as they wore. "So how do we convince them to attack us?"

Brienne smiled. "By using our secret weapon."

She nodded to Podrick, who was dressed in a handsome blue jacket, black breeches and shiny boots. Podrick turned a shade greener.

"Do you remember what to do, Pod?" Griff asked him.

Podrick grimaced. "Stand near the captain and look terrified? Yes, I can do that."

"Good man." Griff patted him on the back. "Off you go."

"Alert the rest of the men," Serjeant ordered Griff.

"But quietly!" Brienne hissed the reminder to him.

Griff nodded to indicate he had heard her.

"Now, remember to wait for my command." Brienne watched the approaching boats as they came closer. "No one should leave their positions until we capture the main ship. The boats don't have enough men to board us. Once they see Podrick and decide we're helpless, they'll go back to the ship. That contains their fighters. We'll disable them on my signal."

"Aye," Serjeant nodded. "The battering ram is ready. But we need perfect timing to lock it in place just before we crash into their ship."

"Yes." She glanced down then away from the modification in the _Sea Keeper's_ bow.

A hole large enough to fit a man's head had been cut into the wood. Currently it was covered with a matching wood door to disguise it and control water influx. They couldn't open it until it was too late for the pirate ship to retreat from them.

"The ram men are ready," Griff returned. "Everyone is moving into place."

Brienne looked over her shoulder as the men moved into positions, dressed as simply as she was, their gleaming swords held under their legs as they knelt, out of sight of the oncoming boats. Ropes had been stretched across the deck and tied down at each end, to give the men hand holds to brace them at impact. Other men filled the steps leading below quarters, tense but controlled, as they waited for their turns.

She, Griff and Serjeant watched the boats coming closer. Podrick, resplendent and sickly beside the simply dressed captain, held the rail with both hands and visibly shuddered. The pirates below laughed and shifted their course to return to the main ship.

"Excellent work, Pod," Griff called up softly.

Podrick nodded weakly, still holding the rail for dear life.

They waited, tense and expectant, as the small boats were hauled into the main ship. The pirates shifted their sails, allowing the ship to steer towards them. Brienne kept her breathing deep and even with effort. Sweat and anticipation soured the air around her. Still, the company men moved calmly and carefully, too disciplined and experienced to give away the game.

"The ship is approaching," the lookout called.

More men came up on deck, crawling on their knees, sliding their swords across the wood, to keep them out of the pirates' sights. An officer nodded to Brienne, taking his position at the top of the steps. She knew another officer was positioned at the bottom of the stairs, ready to call to the men on the lower deck holding the metal ramming pole, waiting for the command to shove it through the hole and lock it into place.

Serjeant went to the captain and patted Podrick on the shoulder. Griff moved closer to a barrel near them, where they'd hidden their swords after their morning practice. She been surprised when Griff, and all the other men, willingly practiced with her, even gave her tips and praised her swordplay. The knights in Renly's Kingsguard barely spoke to her, considered it an insult that Renly had allowed her to join them. They never helped her sharpen her skills and possibly improve further beyond them.

The pirate ship was now close enough that Brienne could see the men, the sun gleaming on their uncovered blades. The scavengers made no attempt to hide them. The blood rushed in her ears; the heat of upcoming battle flushed her cheeks.

"Captain!" Podrick screeched dramatically. "They have _weapons_!"

The ship was close enough that Brienne could hear their laughter. They wouldn't be laughing for long. Just another moment more and they'd be in catch range. Almost, almost, _almost_…

"Now!" Brienne called.

The officers echoed her command down to the hull of the ship. She heard a dull thud as the ramming pole was shoved out the opening and the screech of metal on metal as it was locked into place.

"Rope holds!" The captain called as he turned the wheel.

The men grabbed the ropes strung out across the deck as the ships collided and the rammer tore into the pirate ship's hull, locking it against their ship. The reverberation shuddered through the _Sea Keeper_ but the men held tight. Brienne, her grip on the railing white-knuckled, looked over to the pirates' ship. The impact had knocked them all off their feet, some even looked dazed.

"Take them!" she yelled.

Then _Oathkeeper_ was in her hand and Griff was at her side. They leapt across to the pirate ship, swords out and slashing even as the pirates scrambled to their feet. The rest of the company swarmed over behind them, their battle cries and singing steel drowning out the screams of their opponents.

The battle was ridiculously short. The _Golden Company_ was too organized and disciplined to be challenged by the sea looters. Brienne had barely even lost her breath before the fighting ended, their adversaries on their knees or on their backs, their blood slick pools decorating the deck. The men whooped, raised their blood-soaked swords and looked to her.

"Brienne, raise your sword," Griff ordered.

She looked around. "What?"

"You led the raid, raise your sword," he urged her. "Over your head."

Brienne frowned but raised her sword high. Griff touched his sword to hers then the other men swarmed around them, trying to touch their swords to hers, too. They looked at her expectantly. Griff leaned close and whispered the words into her ear. She stared at him, wide-eyed and stunned. He nodded in encouragement.

Emotions played across her face, nearly causing it to crumple. But it didn't, _she_ didn't. Her voice was strong and sure.

"Beneath the gold, the bitter steel!"

The men roared with approval. They repeated the chant. Suddenly, Tristan and another giant of a man raised her on their shoulders. She laughed and held her sword up to the sky, glowing and triumphant. The men cheered again. She had to turn her face to the sun to hide the sudden wash of tears.

She was a member of the _Golden Company;_ accepted, appreciated, victorious.

She was a _warrior_.


	5. Faith Keeper

**THE KEEPER**

**Chapter 5: Faith Keeper**

Three days later, Brienne and Podrick hauled their bags up the steps of the _Sea Keeper_ and dropped them onto the deck. Like Braavos, the dock in Tyrosh was busy with merchants and sailors. However, while most of the Baarvosi wore muted colors, dulled by the sun, the Tyroshi people were brighter, wearing jeweled colors in their fine fabrics and richly-hued hair.

Serjeant and Griff came up behind them. Brienne squinted as the combination of their vibrant clothes and the bright sunlight assaulted her eyes. Serjeant's red shirt almost matched his hair color while Griff wore a sunny yellow shirt with dark green breeches.

"You did good work, Brienne of Tarth." Serjeant looked from her to Podrick. "You too, Pod_._"

"Aye, Pod," Tristian called from the steps. "Strong fighters are easy to find. Brave men who can act like cowards are rare."

Podrick blushed bright red, helping him blend in with the crowd, despite his sun-bleached shirt and worn boots. "We each do what we can."

"True," Griff agreed, flashing his almost equally blindingly beautiful smile. "But not everyone does it as well as you did. Should we trade giving you fighting lessons for you giving us acting lessons?"

Brienne frowned at them. "We thank you for bringing us to Tyrosh. We gave good service for our passage. Now we need to get back to our work."

Griff frowned. "You're not staying with us?"

"No," Brienne turned to study the dock and the quay beyond it. "We're looking for someone."

"Be careful here," Griff warned them. "Tyroshi merchants are greedy and will cheat you out of your entire purse before you know it."

"We're not looking for a merchant," Podrick explained. "We're looking for a girl."

"A girl?" Tristan repeated. He looked from Podrick to Brienne and back. "Is she for you or for her?"

Podrick's mouth dropped open and he flushed again. Brienne growled at the red-headed giant. She started to reply but Griff spoke first.

"Nah, Tristan," he drawled. "I think our Lady Brienne prefers men, but only big, strong men."

Tristan perked up, muscles bunching. "I'm a big, strong man."

Griff snorted. "Only compared to your mother."

"Leave my mother out of this," Tristan snapped back. "What about your mot-"

"Enough!" Serjeant roared. "Shut up, both of you!"

Brienne and Podrick shared a shocked glance. They'd gotten accustomed to the easy insults the men threw around. This was the first time Serjeant had stopped the mostly harmless braggarts.

He turned back to Brienne. "Do you have the token I gave you?"

"Yes," Brienne confirmed. "Do you want it back?"

"No, keep it." Serjeant shook his head. "Show it to any merchant on the docks. They'll direct you to somebody from the company."

"You're staying here, ser?" Podrick asked.

"Aye, we're expanding into Tyrosh now that the _Second Sons_ have joined Daenerys Targaryen. They've moved most of their men to Slaver's Bay, leaving Tyrosh for us."

"Are they also Westerosi exiles, ser?" Podrick asked.

"No, they're the second sons of nobles or rich families," Griff explained. "They're not in line to inherit wealth or property so they work as sellswords. Or they did. Now they follow the Dragon Queen."

Griff exchanges a dark look with Serjeant and even Tristan stiffened. Brienne looked at them.

"You take issue with the Dragon Queen?" she asked quietly.

"No," Serjeant surveyed the busy dock. "No issues with her."

"Does she really have dragons?" Podrick looked around, as if expecting to find one sitting on the dock. "Or was that just a story to scare her enemies?"

"Not a story. She really has dragons." Serjeant's hands curled into fists.

Brienne glanced at his fists. "How big are they?"

"Are they the size of cats?" Podrick asked hopefully. "I heard the last Targaryen dragons were the size of house cats."

"The one I saw was bigger than my horse." Tristan spoke. "Its wings were more than double that length."

"A horse?" Podrick froze. "You _saw_ a real dragon bigger than a war horse with wings that spread four times that size? When? Where?"

The men exchanged glances again.

"It was seen flying over Braavos a month ago," Serjeant explained. "A big, black dragon. Riots nearly started when it appeared but it hasn't been seen again."

"You said the Dragon Queen was in Slaver's Bay," Brienne reminded. "It takes a full month to travel from Braavos to Meereen."

"For a man on a horse, not for a winged beast," Griff corrected. "It probably took the dragon half a day to cross."

Brienne blinked. "So fast?"

"A raven can cross from Tyrosh to Tarth in three hours. A dragon is a hundred times bigger than a raven." Griff pointed out.

"Does…did it breathe fire?" Podrick asked in a small voice.

The men just looked at him. Podrick made a sound between a gasp and squeak while the others fell silent. Now Brienne understood their grim glances. A beast that large, and possibly still growing, able to fly great distances and breathe fire, was a terrifying weapon. What man could stand against such a threat? Worse, the Dragon Queen had _three_ such weapons.

"Should we find a room at an inn, my Lady, Ser?" Podrick asked several hours later. "The sun will set soon then we won't be able to tell Arya Stark from anyone else."

Brienne looked around, trying not to appear as discouraged as Podrick sounded. They'd spent the whole day working their way up and down the dock. No one admitted to having seen the missing Stark girl.

A woman approached them from the shadows of a nearby alleyway. She was beautiful with thick dark hair, dark eyes and a heavy blood-red gown.

"There are no wolves in Tyrosh," she said in a gentle, musical accent.

"Who are you?" Brienne put her hand on _Oathkeeper_, an instinctive act of protection. "How did you know we were looking for a wolf?"

The woman walked back to the relative quite and privacy of the darkening back street. Brienne and Podrick exchanged glances and followed after her. The woman glanced at the sword, then back up to Brienne's face.

"I am Kinvara," she announced. "High Priestess of the Red Temple of Volantis."

Brienne pulled Podrick back, stepping in front of him. She scowled fiercely at the woman, her hand on _Oathkeeper_.

"Stay back, witch," she ordered. "We will not be prey for your sacrifices."

The woman stopped a few meters away from them. "I came to help, Brienne of Tarth."

Brienne pulled _Oathkeeper _out of its sheath. "How do you know my name?"

Kinvara pressed her hands together. "I know many things. I am the Flame of Truth, the Light of Wisdom, and the First Servant of the Lord of Light."

"I know all about your lord," Brienne sneered. "I know he's fond of telling weak-minded people to burn men alive."

"No, men and women make mistakes, not our Lord," Kinvara insisted. "The Lord guides but many do not have the knowledge to interpret his visions."

"And you do? Why would I trust you?" Brienne demanded. "How can I be sure you know any more than the red witch who guides Stannis Baratheon?"

"Because I know you and your purpose for being here," Kinvara said. "Your _true_ purpose. It is not to find a little grey-eyed wolf."

"The wolf is all I want," Brienne insisted. "Leave us, we don't want your Lord's guidance."

"You may not want it but you need it," Kinvara insisted. "You came to Tyrosh for a reason."

"I came because an old man convinced me the wolf was here."

Kinvara shook her head slowly. "No, you came because you knew, in your heart, that you have a great destiny."

Brienne blinked. "That's what the Ironborn priest said, too."

"Ironborn priest? Not only the Lord of Light summoned you?" Kinvara's pale skin drained to milky white in the gathering dusk. "You don't understand the grave importance of your journey, Lady Brienne. If you don't believe in my Lord, do you the hold with the Drowned God or the Seven, perhaps the Old Gods and the New? Do you believe the faith in your own heart?"

"Yes, of course I do," Brienne said slowly.

The priestess's voice became urgent, a sharp contrast to her earlier calmness. "Then you know everyone is what they are and where they are for a reason."

Kinvara stepped closer but stopped when Brienne held up _Oathkeeper_. The priestess's tight face smoothed when she looked at the sword. Her lips curved into a small smile.

"This is part of the sword once carried by the Warden of the North, Ned Stark." Kinvara nodded to _Oathkeeper_. "It was melted down for a reason. You carry one part of it. Joffery the Cruel was gifted the other part. But it didn't stay with him for long, did it?"

She paused as Brienne glanced at her sword. Brienne pressed her lips together but didn't speak. Kinvara continued.

"Soon that part will be with Joffery's true father, the _Kingslayer_, Jamie Lannister." She raised her eyebrows at Brienne's harshly drawn breath, then continued. "This is also as intended. The Lord guides us all. I am his word. My vision is clear."

"You say you have a vision for me? I'm honored," Brienne sneered.

"You are more than honored, Brienne of Tarth." Kinvara's voice was calm, her belief in her own truth clear in her eyes. "You are the light in the darkness."

Brienne and Podrick share a shocked glance.

"What is your vision for me?" Brienne asked reluctantly.

Kinvara smiled. "I see you floating between the sun and a star, running with wolves and lions, soaring with dragons and eagles, parting the blackest clouds and holding lighting in your hand."

Brienne and Podrick look at each other again,

"I don't understand," Brienne insisted. "What does that mean?"

Kinvara smiled gently. "My vision is true. I looked into the flames and I see all that surrounds you. Your path is clear. But you must hurry for time is short."

"Hurry where?" Brienne demanded. "I don't know where you want me to go."

"You must ride past the city, go south of the rising sun, into the Disputed Lands." Kinvara stepped closer. "There you will find your guide."

"My guide? How will I know this guide? Will there be another guide after him? How do I know this isn't some trick?"

"You know this is no trick." Kinvara was now so close they could feel her unnatural warmth. "It isn't just my Lord who guides you. Look inside yourself. You've always known that yours was not the ordinary path. But this journey you must make alone." She looked at Podrick then back to Brienne. "This is your truth, only yours."

"I'm her squire," Podrick objected. "I have to be with her."

Kinvara shook her head slowly. "No, Podrick Payne, you have another task. You must be Lady Brienne's eyes and ears. But do not fear. You will be reunited soon. This I have also seen."

She turned back to Brienne. "Remember my vision. I am the Flame of Truth and can tell you no lies. Have faith, Brienne of Tarth. You will return to Tyrosh reborn and step into a destiny brighter than the flames themselves."

Brienne stared at her, unable to form words. Kivara touched her hand still holding _Oathkeeper_, her unnatural warmth causing tingles to burn under Brienne's skin.

"But you must hurry, Lady Brienne." Kinvara's eyes burned with internal fire. "You know, for you have already been told. The reign of the Night Queen will soon begin."

**Author's Note:** Yeah! Brienne finally got SOME respect in the show. However, it's not enough for me. I want her to be the ultimate winner. As she will be in this story! I like to take cannon events and manipulate them to fit my story. I want to connect the events from the books and show to come to a supportable conclusion. It will be very different than the show's ending, but it will still be believable (I hope).

I have this story 70% plotted, meaning I know how it will end and the plot points to hit to achieve my ending. I like to leave some room for the characters to speak for themselves and to explain any points that readers question.

I love getting feedback and welcome your suggestions. Thanks for reading.


	6. Destiny Keeper

**THE KEEPER**

**Chapter 6: Destiny Keeper**

Brienne and Podrick stayed where they were, watching the Red Priestess melt into the rapidly gathering darkness. Brienne turned without a word and led the way out of the alley.

"Shall we find rooms, my Lady, Ser?" Podrick looked around, his voice as somber as his dark eyes.

They were at the south end of the dock, far from where the _Sea Keeper_ dropped them off earlier that day. Torches were being lit to fight the encroaching darkness, muting the vibrant colored fabrics and hair around them.

"We'll go back to where we started." She pulled the token out of the pouch she'd secured under her sword belt. "The company has outposts in the Disputed Lands. They may assist us in making arrangements to find the next guide."

Brienne led and Podrick followed. It didn't take long to find rooms and a meal at an inn near the wharf. The owner had glanced at the token and nodded towards the back room. They didn't speak again until they settled into chairs in the dark dining hall. Several company men greeted them but none invited them to join their tables.

"Do you believe the Red Priestess?" Podrick questioned, leaning over the table to keep his voice low.

Brienne nodded slowly. "Yes. I cannot believe that followers of two different, opposite, religions would somehow conspire to lure me to Tyrosh."

"The priestess was shocked when you told her about the saltwater priest," Podrick agreed. "How could they plan this? Fire and water destroy each other. They'd never agree."

"So perhaps what they say is true." Brienne paused as a maid brought over meat pies and ale.

Podrick smiled and inhaled with obvious pleasure, his eyes nearly rolling back into his head. The maid watched him take another deep sniff and shook her head.

"Ain't ever seen a body more happy to have pigeon pie," she observed.

"Anything that's not from the sea," Podrick breathed. "I need meat and gravy."

The maid patted him on the head. "You're a right cute one, ain't you?"

"What about me?" A voice bellowed from the crowd. "Don't you think I'm cute anymore?"

"Sure you are." The woman sashayed over to the speaker. "He's as cute as a button, you're as cute as a bear."

"Bear?" Another voice jeered. "Don't you mean boar? Look at that mangled snout and tusks!"

Loud laugher broke out. Brienne used the cover of their japes to continue her conversation with Podrick.

"I'll make arrangements to send you to Tarth," she said. "My father will keep you safe. Try to find out about the other wolf. I'll send a raven as soon as I know where I'll be."

"My Lady, Ser, I don't want to leave you here alone," he insisted.

"I'll be fine." She patted the sword on her hip. "This is supposed to be my destiny. Remember, the priestess said we'd be reunited. Hopefully that means one of us will hear word on our missing wolves."

"How long will you be in the Disputed Lands?" he asked.

"Disputed Lands?" Griff spoke from over Podrick's shoulder. "You're going to the Disputed Lands? Why?"

Brienne looked up at him and Tristan. She'd been so focused on her conversation she hadn't noticed them. Griff pulled an empty chair from another table and sat down next to her. Across from them, Tristan did the same and even swiped a large chunk of Podrick's pie.

"Hey, that's mine!" Podrick objected.

"She'll bring more." Griff helped himself to Brienne's ale. "Why do you want to go into the Disputed Lands? They're dangerous."

"Does the company have outposts there?" Brienne ignored his question. "Can I get fresh horses and supplies from them?"

"Why?' Griff demanded again.

She shook her head. "I can't tell you."

He frowned at her. "It's called the Disputed Lands because Myr and Lys continuously fight over them. There are scores of sellsword companies operating there. Hundreds of men go in but many less come out."

"They're lost in the fighting?" Brienne took the fresh flagon of ale from the maid and made room for more pie.

"Aye, some of them," Tristan confirmed. "The rest are lost to slavers and wild animals."

"Snakes, lions, wild boars," Griff elaborated. "and now, dragons."

Brienne stiffened. "The dragon was seen there?"

Griff and Tristan exchanged grim glances. Griff nodded and drank down his ale. Tristan refilled their cups and dug into his meal.

"The rumor is the beast is a scout for the Dragon Queen." Tristan grunted. "It travels over Essos to find her enemies and her allies."

"Does it kill at will?" Podrick asked. "Or only when she commands it?"

Griff turned his empty cup in his hands, ignoring his pie. "Zaldrīzes buzdari iksos daor,"

Brienne and Podrick stared at him. Tristan bent over his plate, focused on his food.

"What does that mean?" Podrick asked.

"What?" Griff looked up from his study and blinked, as though surprised to see them.

"What you just said, what does it mean?" Podrick prompted.

"It's something I've heard before," Griff explained. "Zaldrīzes means dragon in High Valyrian. Buzdari is the word for slave."

Pod stiffened. "So the dragon is her slave? He kills when she orders it?"

"No," Griff shook his head. "Zaldrīzes buzdari iksos _daor_ means 'a dragon is _not_ a slave'. She doesn't command the dragon. It's with her by choice. It wants to follow her."

"Why?" Podrick asked. "Something that big, that powerful, it doesn't have to follow orders."

"Why does any man follow a king or a commander?" Brienne countered. "I followed Renly because he was my lord and I believed in the world he wanted to build. Why did you choose to stay with me, even after I offered to let you leave?"

"I stay because I believe in your honor." Podrick spoke softly. "I'm a better man when I'm with you."

They all stared at him, Griff and Tristan surprised, Brienne shocked. Podrick looked down at his plate.

"I follow our commander because the company gives me wealth, power and respect," Tristan offered, his voice lower than usual.

"I stay because I also want to build a better world," Griff said quietly. "One man alone cannot change the world, but one man with an army can lead a revolution."

"You're saying the dragon can make choices? It chooses to follow the Dragon Queen? Its capable of loyalty, reason and…" Podrick paused as he searched for the right word, "…love?"

Griff and Tristan looked at each other.

"A man fights for what he lacks the most," Griff's eyes had the far-away look of a person whose focus is inward. "Gold can be replaced, honor can be subjugated, bones can be broken but love cannot be destroyed."

Brienne, Podrick and Tristan stared at him in silence for a moment. Then Tristan snorted.

"Pick up a harp and put that to song," he suggested. "Or pick up your sword and fight for what you believe is yours."

"Aye," Griff blinked as if coming back to himself. "Regardless of the dragon's reason, it chooses to stay with its queen. We think Volantis is her next target," Griff said.

Podrick frowned. "She plans to take over all of Essos?"

Griff gave him a pitying look. "She plans to take over the known world. She wants Westeros and the Iron Throne. After she takes the Disputed Lands, she'll have a straight path to Tyrosh."

Brienne gasped. "Then from Tyrosh to Tarth?"

"I don't know." Griff stared into the empty ale flagon, as though the answers were there. "She can't manage the slave cities she's already taken. We think that's why she accepted the _Second Sons_. They're not as good as we are but they're organized. They could hold the cities of Slaver's Bay for her while she conquered new territory."

"Her dragon has been to Braavos, too," Brienne pointed out. "Does the company plan to align with the Dragon Queen? Will you join her in invading Tarth and Westeros?"

Griff shook his head. "We don't know what her plans are. We're waiting, like everyone else."

Brienne's eyes flashed. "I won't allow it."

He stared at her. "_You_ won't allow it?"

"Tarth is my home," she reminded him. "My father is there. I'm his only heir. Everyone who lives on the island is my responsibility. I won't allow it to be savaged."

"We're not savages nor are we at war with you." He put his cup down with a hard thump. "The Dragon Queen hasn't approached us. All this is just gossip."

Brienne's face flushed. "Serjeant told me some of your men are exiles or descendants of exiles. He said they'd kill for the opportunity to regain their ancestral homes and titles."

Griff nodded, his expression carefully blank. "True."

"The shortest distance to Westeros is to cross to Tarth. Is that why the company is setting up a base here in Tyrosh?" she demanded. "To cross the Narrow Sea when she commands you?"

"No one commands me," Griff snarled, color flushing his cheeks and darkening his blue eyes to almost black. "You know nothing about losing your family and your home to bloodthirsty tyrants, to be forced to hide in the shadows while incompetent, undeserving pretenders destroy your legacy."

"Nor do I plan to learn," she shot back.

He blinked. "What?"

"I also have a family, a home and a legacy to protect," she pointed out. "I'll do what I must. If the _Golden Company_ marches against Tarth, know you march against me."

"We have no plans to march against you or Tarth." Griff drew a deep breath and calmed visibly. "Again, this is all idle gossip."

She looked at Podrick and Tristan. They were both silent, watching the fiery exchange between Brienne and Griff. She took a deep breath and calmed herself, too.

"Westeros is different than Essos." She pushed away her unwanted meal. "Here you fight in the heat with light clothing. Speed and agility are the keys to winning battles. There, we wear armor and deal with colder weather the further north we travel. Strength and endurance are necessary to survive. The company cannot win in Westeros without planning. Special armor and equipment must be made if the company were to fight in the North."

Griff's expression grew thoughtful. "Perhaps we should stay in contact, send you a raven if the Dragon Queen does approach us. Having someone who already knows the land and how to fight on it would be an enormous advantage."

"I won't fight against my own people," she insisted.

"And which people are those, my Lady?" he shot back. "Do you fight for or against the bastard king, Tommen Baratheon?"

Instinctively her hand went to the pommel of _Oathkeeper_. She forced herself to release it. She glanced at Podrick's warm, sad eyes before looking down at the table.

She deflated. "I'm sworn to the North."

He smiled. "So you're against the pretenders, as is the Dragon Queen. We'd fight on the same side. Battle resolved."

"Well, that's settled," Tristan broke in. "Good to know lasting peace is as easy as putting you two together. What next? You gonna get married and rule the world?"

Brienne, Griff and Podrick all stared at him in startled shock. Tristan calmly pulled Brienne's discarded pie to his side and leaned closer to Podrick.

"It's good Lady Brienne wants men though he's almost too pretty to be a man. Maybe he should go both ways. That be a good trait for a king, won't it? What do they call that? Aye, I know." He grinned, showing off his mouthful of broken teeth. "Diplomacy."

Two days later, Brienne shaded her eyes with her hand and looked over the dry, dusty landscape. Patches of tall, stiff scrub grass grazed her legs as she sat straight in the saddle. She hadn't seen a single living soul since leaving the company outpost at dawn. Now it was midday, with the sun high overhead, and the only change in the flat landscape was the gentle hill coming up in the distance.

"Do you think that's where our guide is?" she asked aloud.

The horse, her only living companion, neighed in response. Brienne patted his neck and urged him forward. They rode at an easy pace and the hill loomed closer and closer. Suddenly the horse shivered and whinnied.

"What is it, boy?" she asked, stroking his neck to calm him. "Do you sense something?"

She raised herself in the saddle, looking for what could have alarmed the horse. Griff had warned her there were dangers in the Disputed Lands but she hadn't encountered anything for hours.

_There_. The tall grass swayed in the distance. The day was hot and airless, with no breeze to move the stalks. Someone or something was out there. She saw another shiver in the scrub. She turned her head to the other side. The grass definitely shifted on that side, too. She quietly unsheathed _Oathkeeper_, keeping the action low, hiding it in the grass brushing her legs.

The horse neighed again, louder this time and broke into a trot. He knew they were being stalked, too. The faster the horse went, the faster the grass moved around them. Whatever it was came closer with every passing breath. It had to be animals. No man could keep that pace, not while bent over and fighting the grass.

The hill ahead of them had no scrub grass to cover it. If they could make it to the top, she could at least see what was after them. She kicked gently into the horse's side. The horse exploded into a headlong gallop. Brienne held desperately to the reins as she heard a roar that sent hot and cold waves of fear through her body.

A _lion's_ roar. They were being hunted by a pack of lions. Suddenly one of the beasts leapt out of the brush. It was instinct, not logic, that caused her to slash at it with her sword. _Oathkeeper_ tore off the lion's front right paw. It yelped and fell but not before scratching deep gashes into the horse's side and Brienne's lower leg. The horse screamed and ran faster.

"Easy, boy!" Brienne grabbed the saddle horn with her rein hand, her sword held tight in her other hand, knowing nothing she said would get through to the terrified animal.

Another lion leapt at them. Brienne slashed again, tearing into its head, but the beast caught the horse's neck, ripping another gash into it. The horse went down on his front haunches. Brienne leapt clear, rolling on the hard ground, _Oathkeeper_ still in her hand by force of sheer will. A shriek unlike any she'd ever heard before tore through the air. She held her sword out in front of her, turned in a circle, trying to hold off the immediate threat.

The shriek came again, closer than before. A pride of lions exploded out of the brush but it didn't attack her. Instead, they fled past her as though chased by an even more deadly predator. Again, instinct took over and Brienne ran, too, half limping as her torn leg threatened to collapse at every step. The only possible refuge was the hill ahead of her, higher ground. She'd just made it to open dirt, out of the brush, when a third shriek, so close it reverberated in the ground around her, drowned out the desperate sound of blood rushing in her ears.

She fell hard, her injured leg crumpled beneath her, _Oathkeeper_ tumbling out of her grasp. She looked up to the sky. An enormous dragon was streaking down towards her. No instinct could overcome the shock of seeing the terrifying beast. She froze.

The dragon released a stream of fire. The horse screamed. Brienne's frozen horror broke as her arms came up to shield her face. It was stupid, the rational part of her mind noted, her arms were no protection against dragon fire. Panic overtook her rational mind. Adrenaline overrode the pain in her leg. She snatched up her sword and ran toward the only possible protection, the hill before her.

She didn't look back until the ground shook again, as though a great hand had hit against it. She stumbled down to the hard-packed dirt and looked back. The beast had landed. The dragon's fire had roasted the horse and now it ripped through the burned flesh, devouring the poor animal.

Brienne rolled over _Oathkeeper_ to hide the distinctive Valyrian steel that might appear a threat to the great beast, grateful for her dull clothes and pale coloring. Perhaps the dragon would miss her or find her too unappetizing for a meal. It took the beast only a moment to finish the horse. Then it spread out its wings, even greater than the length of four war horses, and leapt back into the sky.

She didn't move, even after the beast disappeared from sight. An unnatural silence fell on the land. Every creature, lions, insects and terrified warriors, remained silent and still. But they wouldn't for long. She had no horse, no provisions and her lower leg bleed heavily. She has to find protection or she wouldn't survive the night.

"Move!" she directed her injured leg.

Her words were not enough to overcome the damage but her will was enough to turn over, onto her knees. She sheathed _Oathkeeper_ and crawled slowly up the hill, rocks and dirt digging into her lame leg. Soon her hands and knees were bloody and raw. Pain burned up from her extremities, sweat dripped into her eyes, and her back ached from the unnatural position but she gritted her teeth and continued. She had no choice. The lions, and perhaps other predators, would come for her.

About a third of the way up, she found an opening almost as tall as herself and twice as wide. It appeared to be a cave. Using _Oathkeeper_ as a crutch, she drove the tip into the dirt and hauled herself to her foot, her lame leg held off the ground. Her back protested as she tried to straighten herself. Blood rushed into her head then drained just as quickly, darkening her vision and causing stars to dance before her eyes.

She fell forward into the opening. Her last thought before unconsciousness claimed her was to try to shift away from her sword. This could not be her fate; alone, defenseless, in a foreign land, dead by her own sword.

She could not fail Catelyn Stark.

She could not fail destiny.


	7. Dream Keeper

**THE KEEPER**

**Chapter 7: Dream Keeper**

Brienne dreamed of floating in Tarth's sapphire blue waters. Her body felt heavy, lethargic, barely able to move. The dusk settled around her. She heard a mournful cry in the distance. A grey wolf was at the top of the cliffs. The twilight deepened as the moon and stars appeared, brighter than they had ever been before. The wolf howled to the moon.

A snarl drew her attention to the beach below the cliffs. A lion prowled the sand, limping since its front right paw was missing. Jamie, it had to be Jamie. Brienne tried to swim towards it. Her body was a dead weight and her arms had no strength. She tried to kick out with her legs but they refused to obey her will.

The wolf next howl ended with a whimper. The moon was no longer visible. She stopped her attempts to reach the shore and stared at the point where the moon had been. Something shifted and the moon reappeared. Her heart beat faster. The dragon circled above, its enormous size hiding patches of the sky, its silhouette clear against the brightly shimmering stars. The wolf howled again, calm now that the moon had returned.

Brienne resumed swimming, desperate to reach the maimed lion. She couldn't get closer to the shore, no matter how hard she stroked. She gasped and fought the waves, her body weakening with each breath.

"Ser Jamie!" she called but the lion didn't hear her.

A shriek pierced the air. An eagle appeared out of the shadow of the dragon, its silver feathers brilliant in the moonlight, its wingspan enormous and its claws razor sharp. It was headed straight for the lion.

"Ser Jamie, look out!" She tried to scream a warning to the lion but it was too late.

The eagle landed on the lion's back, its claws digging in, drawing rivulets of blood from the maimed beast. The lion reared up on its back legs but the eagle's grip was too strong. The lion roared as the eagle's beak ripped into the its head. The lion shook its upper body, trying to dislodge the eagle. The lion's blood covered the eagle, darkening the silver feathers until they shone almost blue in the moonlight.

The wolf howled again then settled down on the clifftop to watch the death battle between the lion and the eagle. The lion collapsed, trying to roll the eagle off its back. But the eagle held on, digging deeper, until its claws disappears into the lion's back. She tried again to swim to the shore but her body had lost all strength, weak and barely able to float. Brienne looked up at the circling dragon.

"Help him!" she screamed.

The dragon streaked down from the sky. But instead of going to the animals, it headed for her. She screamed again as the dragon's fire hit her, her face burning from the pain.

Then it was the hot afternoon sun, not dragon fire, that burned her face. It was so bright she had to put up her arm to shade her eyes. Thunder rumbled in the distance. No, that couldn't be right. How could the sun be so blindingly hot along with a thunderstorm?

She forced her eyes open. The imprint of _Oathkeeper_ was the first thing she saw, silhouetted in the perfect yellow circle of the sun. She crawled to it, her palms swollen and torn, her knees raw, her lame leg burning and oozing blood with every movement. The thunder grew louder. Another few agonizing efforts later, she was close enough to touch her sword. She looked past it to the parched, flat landscape.

No, not thunder. _Riders_. A pack of at least two dozen riders on horseback thundered towards the hill. She leaned down to see the clear path of drag marks from her crawl up creating a direct line to the cave opening. She shifted and had to turn her head away when the glare off _Oathkeeper's _blade stung her vision. She ducked back into the cave and stared in horror at her sword. The polished Valyrian steel shone in the late afternoon sun, a shining beacon to draw every slaver in the Disputed Lands.

She gritted her teeth and forced herself up to her knees. The dirt was soft but she'd embedded the sword deeply into the ground. Her poor positioning and weak leverage didn't help. But she finally wrestled the sword free, breathing hard from the effort. She sheathed _Oathkeeper_ as the thunder of hoofs stopped.

"Skoriot iksos se egros?" called one of the riders.

Brienne recognized the word _egros_, sword. They had seen her sword.

"Nyke ūndegon nykeā vala!" another said.

She didn't know what that meant but she didn't wait to find out. She began to crawl deeper into the cave. Her only hope was to go in so far in, the darkness would create shadows to hide herself.

She heard the sound of rapid footsteps, of crumbling rock and excited calls. She crawled harder, refusing to accept she'd be caught soon. Then the cave opening was filled with men. Someone caught her lame leg and pulled. She grunted with pain as she fell flat onto her face, the pommel of her sword digging into her stomach. Someone grabbed her by her short hair and laughed. The others joined his laughter. The horses outside screamed. The men turned when a tremendous thud shook the ground.

"Zaldrīzes!" someone shrieked.

Grown men didn't shriek, Brienne thought. There was only one thing terrible enough to make a man shriek as if he'd just seen a demon. Truly seeing a demon with blood-red eyes and fire in its mouth. Then the demon, the dragon, roared and the cave filled with fire. Brienne closed her eyes as the cleansing flames washed over her. The time seemed to go on and on, endlessly.

She kept her eyes closed until she could no longer feel the heat, no longer hear the screams of the terrified men. There was one final roar then a blissful silence. She opened her eyes and looked around. The men were gone. The walls and floor of the cave had turned a glistening black, as though the dragon's fire had roasted the dirt. The late afternoon sun's rays reflected against the shiny rock, making the tunnel unnaturally bright.

Grunting with the effort, she raised up on her hands and knees. Her skin pulled tight, hot and sore, as it did when she burned it after a day in the Tarth sun. While her skin hurt, she could no longer feel the pain in her damaged leg. She looked back to see the deep gouges were closed, no longer bleeding or burning.

She also had no clothes. She stared, uncomprehending, at her naked leg and foot. Slowly she sat back with her legs underneath her, breathing heavily. Her skin pricked and protested, as if the dragon's fire had burned away too many layers, leaving behind raw flesh. She raised her hands, palms up, to look at them. Like her leg, the torn skin had burned away, the blood and dirt gone. She brushed her shaking fingers against one knee. It was no longer bloody but still raw and sore.

She shifted and _Oathkeeper_ fell to the ground beside her. The Valyrian steel shone as brightly as ever. She picked it up by the pommel. Her hand was so weak she could only raise the end, the tip dragged in the dirt. The cloth strips Podrick had so carefully tied on to hide the distinctive design were still in place, as was a finger's length of the leather sheath and a portion of the leather belt. The small pouch that held the _Golden Company_ token was also intact.

A pile of fabric lay crumpled by her knees. She released the sword, letting it tumble to the dirt, to examine the bits of cloth. It was her shirt and breeches, burnt, charred remnants that had fallen off her body when she'd picked herself up from the floor.

An odd little chirpy sound came from within the cave, like a little bird but longer and deeper. She looked hard into the darkness where the unnaturally bright reflected light could not reach. Were there birds inside or something else? Birds that could resist dragon fire?

She tried to rise but her body was so weak the effort caused sweat to bead above her lip. She'd had fever dreams before but never as odd at this one, she realized with jarring clarity. Most fever dreams were short and disjointed. This one felt startlingly real. She could hear her blood pound in her ears, feel the prickle of dirt under her legs and even smell the acrid scent of smoke and burnt cloth.

"Who's there?" she called.

Her voice sounded odd, as though she were hearing it from a great distance. Why was that? She was right here, beside herself. The chirping sound came again, closer and echoing, as though several birds were calling to her.

"Show yourself!" she ordered.

The chirping came closer still, louder and higher pitched. Something moved in the shadows beyond the fading sun's reach. She shifted from her knees to sitting on the ground, her back against the wall, her knees pulled tight against her body. She winced as she felt the rough dirt bite into her back, feet and buttocks. Why was her skin so sensitive in her dream? And why was she naked? She'd never dreamt of herself naked, didn't give a thought to the wrongness of her body, too broad and strong to be a woman's, since she had finally accepted she would never appeal to others.

Something hopped out of the darkness. She looked down and stared at the tiny creature. Vaguely, she was shocked by how _unshocked_ she was to see it. It looked like a miniature dragon, with small webbed wings, a head the size of a plum and tiny horns no bigger than her fingernail. It was…almost adorable. She leaned closer to look at it and another baby dragon appeared next to the first. Others joined the two who were staring at her with the same confused, wonderous expression she was sure was on her face, too.

Soon there were five little dragons gathered into a group, so close together they appeared to be leaning on each other. They were larger than kittens but smaller than fully-grown cats. Brienne smiled. Podrick would be happy to see them. He'd hoped for dragons no larger than cats. The little dragon-cats danced around her, flapping their transparent wings and coughing, unable to fly or breathe fire. That would also make Podrick happy. Tiny dragons, small enough to hold his arms, who didn't fly and couldn't breathe fire, were nothing to be afraid of.

The first dragon to appear, a dark brown with red markings on its webbing and spines, moved closer to her. Brienne slowly extended her hand. The little creature sniffed her fingers then hopped onto her palm, chirping loudly, its weight surprisingly solid for such a small thing. The rest of them moved as a pack. They all crowded around her, rubbing against her legs and sides. They felt shockingly warm, as though fire burned in them, even if they couldn't breathe it out.

"Why are you here?" she asked the small creature sitting on her hand. "Are you my guide?"

The little creature nipped her fingertip.

"Or am I to be your dinner?"

The baby dragon flapped its wings and began to crawl up her arm. Its little claws were delicate pinpricks against her tender skin. Immediately another dragon, this one dark blue with light blue markings, took its place. The others hopped up, too, clawing up her legs, as though fighting to be as close to her as possible. She tried to shift away from them but her body was too weak to obey. Soon she had a baby on each shoulder and the other three sitting on her upraised knees. They all began chirping at once, as though trying to communicate with her.

"Is this my destiny?" she asked the small creatures. "Am I to be your first meal? Was this why the Gods of fire and water wanted me to come here?"

Slowly she wrapped her arms around her legs, giving the little creatures more room to settle against her. The baby dragons responded with more odd chirping and flapping of useless wings. Then they snuggled in, as if they couldn't get close enough to her.

She stared at her little companions, nonplussed. "All of my life, I've been rejected because I didn't match people's ideas of how I should look and how I should behave. Perhaps I needn't have bothered with the human world. I should have entered this cave and found all of you."

A grey dragon with light blue markings nipped at her thumb. She used the same thumb to stroke the little creature. The dragon arched its long, serpentine neck, as though the act gave it pleasure. Brienne repeated the gesture and the dragon responded again.

"You remind me of my father," Brienne said. "He also has grey hair and blue eyes. I have the same eyes. I've been told they're my only redeeming feature."

The dragon tilted its small head, as if listening to her. All the dragons were calm now, their heads resting against her, their small wings drooping. Her voice seems to soothe them so she continued.

"I don't know how long we'll be together. Sometimes my dreams repeat night after night and other times the same dream continues when I'm trying to solve a puzzle. We may meet again and again, little ones. I am Brienne of Tarth. What should I call you?"

The dragons didn't answer. Not that she expected they would. The Gods wouldn't have made it so easy as to send her dream guides who spoke the Common Tongue. Still, they watched her, as if they expected her to continue talking to them.

"Very well. Shall I name you all then?"

She tried to shift her aching arms but the three little ones flapped their wings and coughed at her. She sighed and left her arms as they were. She'd endure far greater discomfort in the real world. Dream dragons were nothing in comparison. The two on her shoulders stirred but didn't shift from their comfortable places. The blue and grey dragon chirped quietly.

"Alright, you're first," Brienne agreed. "I'd like to name you after my father but he still lives, thank the Gods. Perhaps I should name you after my mother, Allyna?"

The dragon turned its little head away, as if in disdain.

"Is that too lady-like for you?" Brienne smiled and relaxed, safe in the rapidly darkening cave, protected by five tiny dream dragons. "I'm no lady, either. Very well. Then I shall name you after both my parents, Allyna and Selwyn of Tarth. Do you like the name Allwyn?"

The dragon – Allwyn – looked back at her and chirped agreeably. The dragon on her right shoulder nipped her ear, demanding attention.

"You wish to be next?" She tucked her neck briefly to cuddle the dragon. "You were the first to approach me. Brown with red markings, born to be a leader. I knew two such leaders and swore myself to them both. Your coloring matches King Renly and Lady Catelyn. Rencat? No, that's too simple for one named after such honorable people. You shall be Catren."

Catren flapped its wings and coughed before settling back against her neck. Brienne turned to look at her other shoulder. This dragon was a dark blue with the same pale blue markings as Allwyn.

"You're as blue as the waters of Tarth that took my brother. He never had the opportunity to be a great man. I'm sure he would have. He'd have been the heir my father deserved." Even in this dream world, the ache of loss roughened her voice. "I hope you will achieve the greatness my brother was denied. His name was Galladon. I'll call you Gallan."

Gallan didn't respond, other than to blink its small, red eyes at her. Brienne choose to believe the look was calm acceptance. Her arms were tiring so she put them down. Allwyn hopped down and snuggled against Brienne's side, then closed its beady eyes and became still. Catren and Gallan also relaxed, tiny heads buried against her neck, ready for sleep. The two remaining dragons were still alert, sitting on her knees, watching Brienne.

"So, you will not rest until our task is complete, hmmm? You are both great knights who will not waiver from your duty? That's good." She first looked at the green dragon with deep orange markings. "I have a great warrior in my lineage. Ser Duncan the Tall was one of the most noble knights of his time. His sigil was a green tree with a shooting star on an orange crest, your colors. Shall we call you Duntal? No, that doesn't match with the others. How about Serdun?"

As if he understood her, Serdun flapped his wings and laid down on Brienne's other side. Only one dragon remained, alert and watchful. He was silver-grey with nearly white markings.

"I've run out of distinguished members of my family." Brienne stroked the little warrior with gentle fingers. The dragon arched its neck but did not waiver. "I do know of another great knight. Ser Jamie's idol was Ser Arthur Dayne, the _Sword of the Morning_. He carried a magical sword called Dawn, which choose its own wielder. The sword is milky-white, like your markings. Will you be as strong and as steady as Arthur Dayne, Ardayn?"

The little dragon took proudly to its new name, standing tall and straight, refusing to succumb to sleep like the others. Brienne continued to stroke the small creature until she felt the heavy pull of sleep behind her own eyes.

"Will you remain on guard duty, Ardayn? Will you warn us if danger approaches?" Her voice sounded far-away again. She was fading from this world. "Good-bye, little one. I hope we meet again, in another time and another dream."

Her last image before the darkness overtook her was of the tiny dragon, a miniature warrior from days long past, glowing in the last rays of the sun, casting a shadow so long it seemed it could reach back into history and touch the heroes of old.

Translations:

"Skoriot iksos se egros?" (Where is the sword?)

"Nyke ūndegon nykeā vala!" (I saw a man!)

"Zaldrīzes!" (Dragon!)


	8. Dragon Keeper

**THE KEEPER**

**Chapter 8: Dragon Keeper**

Incessant chirping and sharp pin-pricks along her side brought Brienne out of a dark, dreamless sleep. She tried to brush the annoyance away but it continued, now along her back and buttocks. Something nipped her ear and her eyes flew open. Her mind could not process what she saw and she just stared for a few seconds. Then she shrieked and tried to recoil, but her body was still too weak and sluggish in respond properly.

Still, her scream set off a chain reaction. The dragons began coughing and chirping loudly, flapping their useless wings. Dear Gods, they were _real_? She hadn't dreamt them? She looked around wildly, trying to get her bearings. She was laid out on the cave floor, still naked and still surrounded by five small, non-dream dragons.

They stopped flapping and coughing, calming now that she was no longer shrieking. The grey and white dragon perched on her shoulder – Ardayn – clamped her ear again, pulling on it. She turned her head to the cave opening and saw the daylight. And she heard what her little guard dragon had tried to warn her about. The thunder of horse's hoofs.

She leaned against the cave wall for leverage and forced her legs to bear her weight. Again, using _Oathkeeper_ as a crutch, she pulled herself half upright to stagger to the mouth of the cave. She wasn't in pain as she had been yesterday but the blood loss left her weak and dizzy. Still, she didn't need her full mental facilities to know they were in trouble. The number of riders was double the group that had come last afternoon.

The riders hobbled their horses further back, away from the scorched ground that evidenced the dragon's attack. Like most Tyroshi, they wore loud colors in their clothes and hair. There were at least forty men converging on the hill, each pulling out swords or curved blades as they marched across the burnt ground. Brienne stumbled back, her naked body sweaty and shaky with fear and fatigue.

The dragons gathered around her, chattering anxiously, rubbing against her as if seeking comfort. _Zaldrīzes buzdari iksos daor_. She remembered Griff saying a dragon was not meant to be a slave. These dragons were tiny, helpless, unable to defend themselves. They would become slaves and worse if those men got them. They'd be fought over, sold to the highest bidders and used as devastating weapons to wage terrifying wars.

She was their only defense. Her heart beat faster and her head began to clear. Her sword hand steadied as adrenaline pumped into her veins. She wouldn't be able to defend the dragons for long but she would do her best. If her destiny was to be their champion, she would fight for them with every breath left in her body.

Surprise was on her side. The first man in had only opened his mouth when she slashed his throat. The second managed a startled grunt before he, too, was silenced. The third man stood behind his fallen companions, eyes round, face blank with shock. Whatever he'd expected, it wasn't a towering, pale-skinned, naked blonde woman. His shock cost him as Brienne thrust _Oathkeeper_ through his chest.

Then she heard it, the big dragon's shriek. It was coming. She only needed to hold out a little while longer. The little dragons behind her began chirping again, jumping around and flapping their wings, creating their own commotion.

"Zaldrīzes!" Someone cried out as men and horses began to scream.

The dragon roared again, so close the sound reverberated around them. The cave began to heat as the dragon released fire above them. The stench of burning flesh rose into the cave but no other men. Terrified screams echoed on the walls around her. Brienne released _Oathkeeper, _still in the dead man's chest,to turn back to the little dragons. She dropped to her knees and gathered them close, using her body to shield them from attack. They seemed to understand her urgency, their small, hot bodies shivering as the sounds of the dead and dying rose over the screech of the big dragon.

A tremendous thud shook the ground. The dragon must have landed. She waited several minutes but the screams continued. What was the dragon doing? Brienne pulled Oathkeeper out of the slaver's chest and crept to the cave opening, her sword dripping blood in the brightening morning light. The same ground had been charred again but many horses, hobbled further away from the burn site, were still alive and seemed unharmed. They were still hysterical, pawing at the ground and trying to pull free.

The dragon prowled the ground below her before raising its head to look to the cave opening. Instinctively, Brienne held her sword up in to block an attack, before realizing the foolishness of her action. The Valyrian steel had survived dragon fire but it was no defense against a dragon. She knelt down and laid the sword on the charred cave floor.

The small dragons came up to the opening, chattering excitedly. The big dragon came closer. She retreated deeper into the cave. The small dragons waddled around Brienne, staying at her side.

"Go," she ordered, looking down at them. "You're supposed to go with the big dragon."

The little dragons didn't agree. They stayed close to her, chirping away. The big dragon didn't agree, either. It roared again and leapt up into the sky.

"Wait!" Brienne called. "You can't leave without them! Who will care for them?"

She watched the dragon grow smaller and smaller in the sky. She looked around at the parched and burnt landscape. Silence settled over the land. The horses had exhausted themselves from screaming and fear and began to calm. It was up to her. She would have to protect them and keep them safe from the slavers who'd come for them. She stripped the dead bodies of their garish clothes, flat boots, coins, sword belts and, mercifully, their water skins.

The little dragons crowded close as she guzzled down water. She realized they were thirsty and probably hungry, too. She poured water into her cupped palm and held it out. Catren, the born leader, came to her first. Its tiny tongue tickled the still raw skin of her palm. Brienne poured water and offered it until each dragon had its fill. They were already starting to show distinct personalities. Catren led with Allwyn as its second, ready to step up as needed. Gallan calmly waited its turn while Serdun and Ardayn stayed back, alert and watchful. They didn't come forward until the others moved away.

Five small dragons, a form of magic recently returned after hundreds of years, had entered the world they would one day rule. But only if they were able to grow without harm. They would be nearly invincible once they were bigger, _if_ they became bigger and were able to fly and breathe fire. But that day was not today. How many years would it be before these little creatures became the same deadly menace the big dragons were already? The three large dragons had created a wave of destruction for the Dragon Queen. Would these dragons join with them or battle against them?

Why had the Gods decided to make her their keeper for the most powerful form of magic ever known? How would she keep them safe? Rumors of the large dragons has been dismissed, had been thought to be lies created to enhance the Dragon Queen, until she'd used them to take over Slaver's Bay and command two powerful armies. Now, everyone would hunt down these small kingmakers, if the world was to learn of their existence. Where could she keep them safe? How could she hide them until they were able to defend themselves? Could they be taught to be kind and honorable, like the people they were named after?

These were questions for another time, when the need to protect them didn't press so heavily on her. Now, she had to get the five to safety.

"We're leaving," she announced. "We can't stay in this cave. We need food, shelter and an army to protect you. Luckily, we have horses, coin and swords to trade."

The five watched her with tilted heads while she dressed herself in the dead men's clothes and boots, choosing the red shirt and bright blue breeches of the biggest man. They hid the blood stains best. She winced at the feel of the sticky silk against her still-raw skin. She gathered up their swords and used the rags from her burnt clothes to clean _Oathkeeper_. She sheathed it in the man's sword belt and picked up the pouch with the _Golden Company's_ token.

"We may even have an army," she noted. "If I can sway them to our cause."

The five may not have understood the Common Tongue but they knew they were leaving. They rushed to climb up her body. Serdun and Ardayn, her guards, settled on her shoulders. Catren nipped Brienne's fingers to remind her to cradle her arms. Catren settled in the center with Allwyn on the right and Gallan on the left, ready to set forth into their great adventure.

She had to keep them safe. It was her destiny.

Two days later, Brienne went back to the same inn where she and Podrick had their last dinner. The innkeeper sniffed then curled his lip at the stench coming from the roughly stitched leather pack she'd strapped to her chest. She turned to try to shift the pack further away but didn't dare put it down. The five were only quiet when they were close to her.

She'd filled the rough pack with burnt horse meat from the dead animals in front of the cave. It has only taken a moment to learn what baby dragons ate. Catren and Allwyn had jumped out of her arms when they'd reached the ground. They'd immediately begun feasting on a dead horse. Gallan had waited until they chirped to join them. Serdun and Ardayn hadn't joined them, still stubbornly on guard duty, until she'd put them down beside the others.

A moment later, she was back on the street, following the man's directions. The finely dressed merchants looked at her in nose-wrinkled disgust, making room for her to pass, not wanting the foul-smelling foreigner to touch them. She ignored them and marched on, until she found the golden door. It opened before she could shift her burden to knock.

"Brienne, what happened to you?" Griff demanded. He wrinkled his nose and stepped back. "What is that smell?"

"Horse meat," Brienne explained.

She marched into the office. It was small, with only a table and chairs in the room. The walls had been painted gold but otherwise showed no markings, as was common for the _Golden Company_. Tristan came in from another door and Brienne glimpsed more gold paint in the next room, too.

"Aye, welcome, Brienne. I hear tales of you killing an entire company of slavers and bringing back their horses for trade," Tristan said.

"How did you hear about the horses?" Brienne demanded.

Griff snorted. "We were sent a raven as soon as you appeared at our last outpost. The dragon had been seen several times while you were gone. We were worried you wouldn't make it back."

"Worried?" Brienne repeated. "You were worried about me?"

"Nah, I knew you'd be okay." Tristan grinned. "Griff was worried. He cursed you for being so stubborn and refusing to take a guide or an army."

She stared at Griff. "Why would you worry about me?"

He flushed, making his already beautiful face glow. "Very few men, who go into the Disputed Lands alone, come back alive. None, before _you_, have come back dressed in their enemy's blood-soaked clothes and bearing the spoils of war."

"I couldn't leave the horses behind," she mumbled. "They would have died if I'd left them out there."

"Why do you have horse meat?" Griff asked.

"I burned the bodies of the dead." She could feel herself flush from the lie. "I took the meat so I wouldn't starve on the way back."

"Liar," Griff said quietly. "You've spent the last two days moving from one company post to the next. They gave you food and shelter. You're hiding something else in there. What is it?"

She ignored his question. "I need help. I need to leave Tyrosh immediately. I'm not safe here."

"By the count of horses you brought back, you killed at least a score of slavers," Tristan said. "I think they're the ones not safe."

Brienne stared at him. "Will you help me or not?"

Griff looked at the pack in her arms. Brienne hugged it tighter and shifted closer to the door. It would be awkward to unsheathe _Oathkeeper_ while holding her burden. But she'd fight if they tried to take her pack by force.

Griff didn't reach for her. Instead he leaned back against the table. "Where do you want to go?"

"Anywhere."

He exchanged looks with Tristan. "When do you want to leave?"

"Now."

Again, the men exchanged looks. Brienne waited, tense and ready to run, if needed. Finally, Griff nodded.

"Tristan and I are preparing a team to Volantis. We plan to leave in four days. You can come with us," he offered.

She shook her head. "I can't stay here that long. An attack can come from too many directions. I have to be on the water, away from people, where I can see the enemy coming."

"Who's coming for you, Brienne?" Tristan asked. "We're the _Golden Company_. No one attacks us and lives to tell the tale."

An image of the bloodthirsty slavers rose in her mind. They would stop at nothing to get the five. Tyrosh was a busy city full of people. A battle between the _Golden Company_ and slavers would soak the streets in blood. She couldn't risk the lives of thousands to protect five.

Brienne left without a word, heading towards the docks. She'd steal a boat if she had to. She'd been on boats all her life and knew how to sail alone. She walked swiftly, leaving the clean and well-organized city proper for the gradual decay and harsher life closer to the docks. A horrible, foul stench filled the air. She stopped and sniffed the pack. It wasn't the horse meat. A quick peek under the flap showed the five asleep. She shut the flap, before the light woke them.

Chanting rose up behind her and a wave of thin, underfed people dressed in dirty rags marched past her. Her mouth dropped open in revolted horror when she placed the stench. Three bodies, still burning, were on a plank held by the slaves, the bodies arranged around a bright red rock etched with a fish scale design. The bodies were so small they had to be babies. Worse the bodies were still moving. _They were burning babies alive_.

She had to breathe out of her mouth to keep from retching. She backed away from the horror, the pack held tight in her arms. What kind of monsters burned living babies?

Hands caught both her arms. She twisted but Griff spoke before she could pull away.

"Easy, it's us," he said. "We have a plan to help you."

He and Tristan guided her back to the _Golden Company_ office. They went into the second room, bigger but windowless and as sparsely furnished as the front, and barred the door. Brienne shook her head, as if trying to shake the horrible image from her memory.

"They burned those babies alive," she gasped. "How could they do that?"

"They're trying to birth dragons," Griff explained, his face set and grim.

"That was a dragon egg?" Her arms tightened around her pack protectively. "People are killing babies to hatch them?"

Tristan snorted. "Who can tell the difference between a dragon egg and well-formed rock? The rumor is the Dragon Queen birthed dragons on her husband's funeral pyre by sacrificing an old witch to the pyre flames."

"Now people buy worthless rocks chipped to look like dragon eggs. They sacrifice anyone from priests to witches, new babes to the oldest to try to birth dragons," Griff finished.

"No one stops them?" Brienne demanded.

"What's the value of human life against the unlimited power of having a dragon?" Griff asked.

She looked at him in mounting horror. "You believe that?"

Griff looked disgusted. "No, I don't believe that. These are poor people, slaves and beggars all their lives. They want to believe in something, to find a reason for their suffering. They accept the horrors of gods like R'hllor, to give meaning to their misery."

"Even the rich believe it," Tristan pointed out. "Slaver's Bay is filled with ships from every part of the known world, all desperate to marry the Dragon Queen."

"They haven't suddenly fallen for her great beauty or skilled diplomacy," Griff added. "She has the most powerful weapons known to man. No one can stand against her if she turns her dragons on them."

Brienne caught her breath. "What would you do if you had dragons? Would you use them in battle?"

Griff hesitated. "Dragons can't be made into slaves. They're too strong and intelligent to be broken. They would only go into battle if they wanted to. If they did, nothing could stop them but another dragon."

"Turn brother against brother," she said quietly.

"All three of the Dragon Queen's dragons are loyal to her," Tristan said. "What would cause them to turn against each other or her, for that matter?"

"What about all these possible new dragons? Many, many people are trying to birth them, by whatever horrible means they can," she pointed out.

"Thousands of people have tried, thousands have died. The last known dragon eggs are over three hundred years old. Kings have been trying to hatch them since the dragons' extinction." Griff shook his head. "These so-called dragon eggs are tricks created by smart men to swindle stupid men."

"Not all of them," Brienne said quietly. "The Dragon Queen hatched three of them. Perhaps the eggs are real but those who try to hatch them are false?"

How was it decided which men were true and which men were false? Griff had said he wanted to change the world, to lead a revolution. Those were only words. Why would anyone follow a man with no history, family or claims to power? He could command a company of paid fighters but that wasn't enough to create a new world order. Would he protect the dragons or try to use them to build his own ambitious future?

Who could properly bear the awesome responsibility of raising dragons? More importantly, could she?


	9. Secret Keeper

**THE KEEPER**

**Chapter 9: Secret Keeper**

Brienne, Griff and Tristan stared at each other in the inner, windowless room of the _Golden Company's_ office. A heavy silence descended over them. Then a soft chirp broke the silence.

Griff frowned. "What was that noise?"

Brienne stiffened. She'd been so focused on the possible creation of an army of dragons she'd momentarily forgotten about the five. She tightened her arms around the pack but it was no use. The chirping of one seemed to have awakened the others.

"It sounds like birds." Tristan stared at the pack Brienne held in a death grip. "You went in the Disputed Lands _alone_ to gather birds? You killed slavers for birds?"

The chirps became louder. She rubbed the pack but knew it was only a matter of minutes before the five demanded release.

"You said you had a plan," she reminded them, raising her voice in a futile effort to drown out the chirps. "What is it?"

"We'll take you in secret to a house here in Tyrosh," Griff stepped closer to her. "You'll be safe there until we can smuggle you onto the ship. Your enemies won't know where you are or when you left Tyrosh."

The chirps became plentiful as all five woke and began to call to her. Why were they so fretful? They'd reminded quiet, mostly sleeping, the nights they'd spent at the company outposts. It was almost as if hearing Griff and Tristan's voices had excited the five. Brienne shifted, trying to put distance between herself and the men.

Griff and Tristan exchanged glances. Tristan went to stand at the door, the only way out. She remembered the first time she'd met the almost seven-foot tall man. He'd pulled his punches, not wanting to hurt a woman, had maintained his self-control even during the pressure of a fight. A man without lands or titles, but with more natural nobility than most lords or knights.

"You tried not to hurt me when we fought," she reminded him. "Would you sacrifice people for the chance to have a dragon? Would you kill children?"

"What?" Tristan stared at her. "I don't hurt babies!"

"Would you?" she pressed, the pack now wiggling visibly, the chirps louder and insistent.

"No. I fight for my company and my men. I don't go after women or children." Tristan glared at her with his mouth pressed into a flat line.

Griff came even closer, looking at the moving pack. "Brienne, you don't have a baby in there, do you?"

"Yes, five of them."

Griff and Tristan stared at her open-mouthed. Tears pricked her eyes but she blinked them back determinedly. She'd faced situations worse than this and survived. Then, she'd done so with a sword. Now she needed to fight, to win, with only her words. Her destiny, and the destiny of five small kingmakers, hung in the balance.

Her voice hardened. "Babies who didn't choose to be born, who I am honor-bound to protect. I will not allow them to become pawns in the games of men."

"Baby birds?" Tristan gestured to the pack. "What have you got in there? Ravens?"

A tail slid out between the pack's rough seams. Tristan jerked back while Griff froze. They both transferred their stares to the wiggling pack.

"Brienne, what do you have in there?" Griff asked, his voice low and ominous.

The dragons began to move vigorously, as though responding to his voice. Their chirps became louder. More tails and nearly transparent wings poked out of the seams. It was no use trying to hide them now. They'd hurt themselves if she didn't release them. Brienne unstrapped the pack and placed it on the table. Wordlessly, she unfastened the laces and turned back the flap.

Ardayn and Serdun came out first, assessing the threat. Swiftly, they raced up Brienne's arms to perch on her shoulders. Catren and Allwyn come out together, turning to face the men, Allwyn slightly behind and to the right of Catren. Gallan came out last. It stared up at Griff until Griff stumbled into a chair at the table, their gazed locked the entire time. Griff blinked first. Only then did Gallan take his place ahead and left of Catren.

"You birthed dragons." Tristan's voice was barely above a whisper.

"I didn't birth them," Brienne corrected. "I found them."

"Are you sure?" Tristan carefully, quietly pulled out a chair and sunk into it slowly. "They're protecting you like you're their mother."

Brienne looked down, startled. Gallan, Catren and Allwyn had formed a defensive line between her and the men while Serdun and Ardayn stood ready on her shoulders, as though waiting for a command to fight for her. The wave of tenderness that washed through her made Brienne's knees weak. She sat down in the chair beside Griff.

"They don't know they're defenseless." Her voice was rough and heavy, emotions clogging her throat. Her gaze hardened. "Do we need to be protected from you?"

The men exchanged wordless glances before shaking their heads simultaneously.

"What do you mean they're defenseless?" Griff asked. "They're dragons."

"_Baby_ dragons. They can't fly or breathe fire." Brienne put her arm out to sweep Gallan, Catren and Allwyn closer.

"Why not?" Tristan demanded.

She shrugged. "I don't know."

"Will they eventually?" he persisted. "How old are they?"

"I don't know," she repeated. "I'm not an expert on dragons."

"Yet, here you are, the mother of five dragons," Griff said quietly.

"I'm not their mother, I'm their keeper," she insisted. "The big dragon is their mother. She led me to them."

"It," Griff said.

"What?" Now it was Brienne's turn to stare.

"You called the big dragon 'she' but that's not right," Griff explained. "Dragons are genderless. That's why the High Valyrian language is also genderless."

Tristan snorted. "He likes to read. Boring sod, most the time."

The dragons all began to chirp and preen, demanding attention. Serdun and Ardayn came down to join the others on the table. They surveying the room, apparently having determined Griff and Tristan were not a threat to Brienne.

"It's good that one of us knows something about dragons. I know nothing." Brienne gently stroked Ardayn's long neck. The grey and white dragon rubbed its head against her hand. "I hadn't even seen a dragon until the big dragon attacked."

"What? When?" Griff leaned towards her but stopped abruptly when Gallan and Serdun chirped at him. He sat back.

"You saw the big dragon?" Tristan asked, safely further down the table. "It attacked you? While you were in the Disputed Lands?"

"Yes, no, yes." Brienne reached out to rub Gallan and Serdun's heads. "I saw it but it didn't attack me."

Ardayn walked down to Tristan. Brienne held her breath as Tristan put his hands on the table, palms up, to the small dragon. Ardayn sniffed his fingers and stared up at the large man. Tristan bent down until he and dragon were at eye level. Ardayn tilted its head, flapped its wings and settled onto Tristan's palm.

"Aye, it likes me!" Tristan flushed with pride.

Griff gave him a withering glare. "It must be the fish you had for lunch. It's probably tired of horse meat."

"At least it's friendly to me," Tristan shot back. "Those two want to gouge your eyes out."

Startled, Griff looked back at the table. Gallan and Serdun were indeed standing between Griff and Brienne, hissing and flapping their wings to puff out their little bodies.

"Why are they doing that?" Griff demanded.

"Maybe they don't like prettier competition?" Tristan suggested with a smirk.

"Put out your hand and let them learn your scent," Brienne urged. "Then they'll know you're not a threat."

Griff slowly put his hand forward, palm up. Gallan and Serdun remained aloof, staying close to Brienne, but Catren and Allwyn went to him. They sniffed his fingertips then chirped excitedly between themselves.

"How did you find the dragons, Brienne?" Griff directed the question to her but kept his gaze on Catren and Allwyn.

It was fortunate Griff and Tristan were focused on the dragons. It gave Brienne time to formulate her answers. There was so much she didn't understand herself. She thought of Podrick, now safely with her father on Tarth. He'd have listened to her and helped her talk through what to do and what to say. Now she was on her own, using a tool she had so little practice and almost no mastery; words had never served her well.

"I found a hill in the flat land with burn marks. I thought that meant the dragon had been there so I went to investigate. The dragons were in the cave carved into the hill."

"Were they any unhatched eggs in the cave?" Griff asked quietly as he turned his hands slowly, carefully stroking the dragons' necks as Brienne had done with Ardayn. Catren and Allwyn stopped chirping and rubbed their small faces against Griff's thumbs, as though to encourage him to continue the attention.

"I didn't look for eggs," Brienne admitted. "I hadn't recovered from the shock of finding these five when we were attacked by the slavers."

"How did you fight them off?" Tristan slowly straightened, keeping both hands on the table, while Ardayn watched him with bright, alert eyes.

It amused her, how these skilled fighters moved so slowly and carefully, as would any intelligent man be when facing a powerful, deadly foe. Brienne was tempted to remind them the dragons couldn't fly or burn them. She didn't. The instinctive fear the dragons engendered was currently their only defense.

Other than her. She would defend them to the death. It was her destiny.

"I didn't. The dragon did."

That finally got Griff and Tristan to look at her.

"That dragon was there?" Griff asked.

"It _helped_ you?" Tristan asked.

Brienne nodded. "I'd killed three slavers but faced at least two scores more. I was in the cave so I only had to fight one at a time. The dragon's fire burned the men outside."

"Wait." Griff looked up and down the table, at the five. "The dragon _knows_ you have its babies?"

"Yes." Brienne brought Gallan and Serdun close to her body. She didn't stroke them, knowing they took their guard duty seriously, but rested her hands gently on them. "The dragon guarded us until we reached your last outpost."

"The outpost reported dragon sightings, not that the dragon was at the outpost." Tristan now also stroked Ardayn, using a single enormous finger.

"I couldn't see the dragon but nothing came near us," Brienne explained. "No wild animals, no birds, not even insects. Then, once we came near the outpost, I heard the buzzing of insects and the chirping of birds. Animals can sense danger sooner than humans and knew to stay away from us. The men at the outpost were calming their horses when I arrived."

Griff stopped stroking to consider her words. "The dragon knows you have its babies, protected you when they were in danger and guided you back to safety."

"Yes." Brienne met his gaze. "If anything were to happen to these five, the dragon would know. It will burn Tyrosh to the ground if they were in danger. Now do you understand why I have to keep them away from innocent people?"

Griff stared at her, the color draining from his face. Allwyn nipped his finger, making him jump and put his hands up in the air. Allwyn and Catren chirped loudly then rushed him, pressing into his chest.

Griff's eyes widened as he wrapped his arm around them, holding them close. "They're so warm. It's like holding an ember."

"Good thing they're not female." Tristan noted dryly. "We have enough trouble with women throwing themselves at you. Imagine how much worse it would be if these little things started fighting over you, too."

Brienne ignored their inane chatter. "They're babies. They need to be stroked and held."

"Held?" Tristan repeated. "That's why the dragon came to our training pit? Not because we're the best fighting force in Essos? It wants us to be bloody nursemaids?"

Brienne stared at him. "When did the dragon visit your training pit?"

Tristan flushed dull red and looked back at Ardayn. "In Braavos."

"What?" Brienne picked up Gallan and Serdun, holding them closer. "You said it was seen over Braavos, not that you had contact with it. What else are you hiding from me?" She glared at Griff. "Give me back my dragons."

Griff didn't move. Neither did Catren and Allwyn, who had snuggled in, their heads and wings drooping.

"Don't be angry." Griff kept his voice low and calm. "We weren't hiding it from you. We barely knew you at the time. We didn't know it was safe to tell you what really happened."

"So, tell me now," she ordered.

She put Gallan and Serdun back down. They walked closer to Griff, as if they were also eager to hear his tale. Griff tried to put his arm down but Catren and Allwyn began to chirp and squawk. Brienne stared at them.

"That's a new sound," she noted. "I've only heard them chirp in the time I've had them. This is the first time they've squawked."

"Women always complain when Griff pushes them away." Tristan grinned. "Why would dragons be any different?"

Griff glared at Tristan but Brienne was not deterred.

"Tell me about the dragon's visit," she ordered again.

"The time it came to Braavos, it landed in our fighting pit." Griff admitted.

"Why? What did it do?"

"Nothing." Griff shrugged, careful not to dislodge the dragons. "It just watched us."

Brienne scowled. "Watched you do what?"

"At first, nothing." Tristan had gone back to stroking Ardayn with a single finger. "We froze, scared stiff while our balls crawled back into our bodies. Then the pretty boy here stepped up, maybe hoping to dazzle the dragon with his fine looks."

"Shut up about my looks. I don't go on about your ugly mug." Griff muttered.

"My looks have never gotten us into a tavern brawl." Tristan began to rise but stopped when Ardayn flapped and chirped. The dragon looked tiny in his large hand.

"Your looks are _from_ a tavern brawl," Griff hissed back, careful not to disturb the two small dragons nestled in his arms.

"Stop trying to distract me," Brienne ordered. "Tell me what happened."

"We went back to practice." Griff held out his free hand to Gallan and Serdun. This time they deigned to sniff his fingers before going back to their guard duty.

"The dragon stayed for hours, just watching us." Tristan continued. "It didn't burn us or attack us. It just watched our drills."

"That's why we thought the dragon was a scout for the Dragon Queen." Griff explained. "We were sure she'd sent it to determine if we'd be good allies for her. Now we know the dragon wanted us to protect these little ones."

"Do you think the Dragon Queen knows about these dragons?" Brienne frowned.

Griff considered it. "I don't think so. There's no way she would trust strangers with her dragons, especially new, helpless dragons that can be stolen by anyone."

Brienne stared at the five. "Does that mean the dragon is acting independently of its queen? Is it hiding its babies?"

"The Dragon Queen has been having trouble holding the slave cities. Maybe the dragon knew it was best to keep the babies away from Slaver's Bay," Griff suggested.

Brienne thought about that. Why had the dragon hatched its eggs so far from the Dragon Queen? Were the eggs already in the Disputed Lands, forcing the dragon to go to the eggs? Or had the dragon decided to keep these eggs away? Were dragons controlled by destiny the same way men were? Did the Gods guide the dragon as they guided her? Was that why her destiny intertwined with a dragon's?

"I don't understand why I'm the one who had to find them." Her voice pitched higher. "I don't know how to take care of a human child. How will I care for dragons?"

For the first time, she felt the weight of the responsibility she'd been given. Her back stiffened and her shoulders drooped. A knight took commands and carried them out faithfully, without doubt or complaint, trusting his king to do what was best for his people. A good knight trusted his king but had any been required to carry out the commands of Gods or dragons?

"You've had them for four days now and they're still alive and well," Griff pointed out. "You defended them from slavers, fed them, kept them secret, brought them safely back to Tyrosh and engaged an army to protect them. I think you're doing a fine job."

Brienne stared at him, pink-cheeked and open mouthed. Praise was not something she took well. She hadn't had heard much of it in her life. _Engaged an army_. The weight on her shoulders lessening. The _Golden Company_ would protect the dragons. They would stand with her.

Careful of the dragons he held, Griff leaned closer and covered her hand with his. "Brienne, you're not alone anymore. We'll protect you and them. Tell us what happened. Why did you go into the Disputed Lands?"

She stared down at their hands. His hand was as big as hers, but while her fingers were blunt and square, his were lean and elegant. There was no justice in the world. Even his hands were beautiful.

"The Gods and the dragon wanted it," she answered honestly.

The prolonged silence made her look up. They – men and dragons – were all looking at her.

Brienne blinked and her blush deepened. She pulled her hand free. "I met a saltwater priest in Braavos. He directed me to Tyrosh. I met a red priestess here. She directed me to the Disputed Lands. Then the dragon protected me while I retrieved its babies."

"Followers of the Gods of water and fire directed you to the dragon?" Griff repeated carefully, as if he was unsure of what he'd heard.

She nodded. "Yes."

Griff turned to look at Tristan.

"The Gods directed Brienne to dragons." There was an odd inflection in his voice, a heaviness that hinted at greater weight than just mere words.

"It's true," Brienne insisted. "The dragons are right here. I'm not lying to you."

Griff turned back to her, a sudden fire lighting in his dark blue eyes. Something in his expression sent prickles down her spine. She straightened in her seat. Even the dragons seemed to pick up on it, alert and watchful, suddenly silent. Something shimmered in the air around them, like heat rising from burning sand.

"I know," Griff agreed, his voice still odd and heavy. "Man cannot understand the will of the Gods. He can only have faith and follow the path they lay before him."

Brienne stared at him, uncomprehending. The intensity in his eyes unnerved her. He was looking at her but seeing something inside his own mind. His arm went lax, disturbing Allwyn and Catren. They squawked and the moment was broken. Griff blinked, as if coming back into himself and looked around.

Tristan snorted. "Oye, you gonna give us one of your 'great duty' talks again? I don't think the dragons are old enough to understand."

Ardayn nipped his finger. Tristan cupped his hands and carefully raised Ardayn to eye level. The dragon stared back at him with bright black eyes. It chirped and flapped its wings, as if trying to communicate. Tristan nodded, as if he understood the little dragon.

"Huh, I don't understand them, either." Tristan grinned at Griff. "He and I are already tired of your sermons. They're too little for duty. How old do you think they are?"

"I think they hatched shortly before Brienne found them. They're too small to go long without food and water." Griff looked down at the dragons he held, his voice no longer odd, now back to being the skilled commander. "Judging from their size and transparent wings, they can't be more than a few days old. After we hide Brienne and the dragons, I'll go to the Temple of Trios. It's said to have records from Valyria there. If not, there should be some books about the Targaryen kings and their dragons."

"This is why we have trouble in the taverns," Tristan grumbled. "You're too busy reading and planning to have a good time. What's the good in conquering the world if you're not going to enjoy it?"

Griff didn't bother to glare at the big man. His focus was back on the dragons. He looked from one to the other, the odd fire back in his eyes. Brienne felt the prickle along her spine again. Ardayn, Gallan and Serdun went to Griff, as if drawn to his fire. Even Catren and Allwyn left the warmth of his body to stand with the others, all five watching the _Golden Company_ officer.

Griff tilted his head to the side. The dragons mimicked him, tilting their tiny heads. He smiled, a beautiful, wide, satisfied smile. The prickles tickling Brienne's spine suddenly felt like the hot slices of a dagger. The hair on the back of her neck rose, a memory teasing at edge of her mind. She had seen that smile before, on another man.

But who and where?


	10. Bloodlust Keeper

**THE KEEPER**

**Chapter 10: Bloodlust Keeper**

One month later…

Brienne stood at the _Sea Keeper's_ bow, scanning the unending blue sea around them. No matter how far they sailed or how long since they'd last seen another ship, it was never enough. Unease often tightened her spine or woke her from sleep, made her look around anxiously, to confirm the dragons were still with her, safe and healthy.

Griff came to join her. "Your watch ended an hour ago, Brienne. Relax."

"I can't relax." Her gaze shifted from the water to the rapidly darkening sky. "I worry about them every moment of the day."

"You're taking too much stress on yourself." Griff patted her back, right where the stress settled between her shoulders.

"Food is here!" Tristan came up the steps with a large metal bowl and a plate piled high with fresh fish.

Squawks and high-pitched screeches greeted him. Brienne turned to look up at the dragons who were sitting on the mast pole ropes. They hadn't mastered flying yet but they could glide, now that their wings had gotten stronger and become nearly translucent. Gallan walked to the end of the pole and flapped his wings, indicating the jump.

Brienne couldn't control the instinct to run below to catch the dragon. Griff caught her and pulled her back.

"No, let it be," Griff ordered. "They have to learn."

Brienne fought him. "The last time, Gallan glided past the boat and ended up in the sea."

"So? They're natural swimmers. They need to learn to fly." Griff didn't loosen his grip.

"Gallan, take care!" she called. "Fly."

"Say it in High Valyrian," Griff reminded her.

"I wish you hadn't read that book saying dragons understood commands in High Valyrian," Tristan grumbled. "They could learn the Common Tongue just as easily."

"Like how you learned dragon squawk in the last month?" Griff watched as Gallan jumped down from the mast and almost immediately caught the draft. The blue dragon glided around the ship's deck, then flapped its wings and rose.

"It's flying!" Brienne gasped. "It's actually flying!"

"Aye!" The lookout called. "Dragon aloft!"

The men on deck stopped their work to look. A cheer rang out as everyone watched Gallan rise to the lookout platform. It perched on the ropes above the platform and screeched in victory. Serdun and Ardayn, as if goaded by Gallan's success, also jumped and caught the air. They glided around the deck, as if to soak in the encouragement from the crew, then flapped hard to join Gallan. Only Catren and Allwyn were left on the mast.

"Come on!" Brienne called. "Fly!"

Griff sighed. "Sōvegon!"

The two dragons flapped their wings and looked down at them. Above them, Serdun, Ardayn and Gallan squawked and chirped.

"Sōvegon, Catren!" Brienne cupped her hands around her mouth. "Sōvegon, Allwyn."

Catren dropped and Allwyn followed seconds later. Catren caught the air, flapped and managed to maintain altitude. The crew whistled and some even clapped. Allwyn glided down to the deck, not attempting to fly. Catren joined Allwyn a few seconds later. They turned to Brienne, flapping and squawking.

Brienne pulled free from Griff and knelt by the dragons. They settled as she gathered them up in her arms. They hadn't gotten much bigger but they'd put on weight and seemed more solid. The steady diet of fish and sunshine agreed with them. They'd started to grow scales on their backs and their nearly translucent wings were stronger.

"Ssshhh," she murmured. "Don't be upset. You'll learn."

Griff came to them. "They don't understand your words."

"They understand my actions." Brienne lifted the dragons to her shoulders. "And I understand theirs. They're frustrated and want reassurance."

Griff shook his head as she rose. "You spoil them." 

He watched as Catren and Allwyn snuggled into her neck and rubbed their heads against her unruly blonde hair. Above them, the other three dragons continued to call down to them.

"They're babies. There's nothing else I can do." She stroked their necks, just under their heads, where they liked it best.

She put them down on the rail and took the bowl from Tristan. The dragons chirped and bounced with excitement as she put two large pieces of raw fish in the bowl.

"Dracarys," Brienne had barely spoken before the two flapped their wings and unleashed a small stream of dragonfire to roast their meal. Each snatched up the fish and made a show of devouring their dinner.

Gallan, Serdun and Ardayn came down to join them. Griff took the empty bowl from Brienne and refilled it with another piece of raw fish. He offered it to Gallan, who tilted its head politely, as if waiting for permission.

"Dracarys," Griff urged, holding the bowl carefully by the edges.

Gallan quickly roasted and took his meal, without the flare or dramatics Allwyn and Catren displayed. Tristan took the bowl and added the remaining pieces of fish.

"Dracarys," Tristan offered the bowl to Serdun and Ardayn.

Both dragons looked away from the darkening horizon to chirp at him before returning to their guard duties.

"Why do they take commands from the two of you but not me?" Tristan demanded. "I've known them just as long as you have."

Griff raised his brow and pretended to consider. "Perhaps the sight of your ugly face puts them off their food?"

"Aye?" Tristan stood his full, nearly seven-foot height. "Then what does it say that seeing your perfect features makes them want to burn raw meat?"

Brienne ignored them, as usual. She put the bowl down on the rail between her most devoted guards and stroked their backs, where the slightest ridge of their emerging spikes could be felt. Now, freed from their duty, they didn't need to be prompted to cook and eat their dinner.

"Sōvegon," she urged them gently once they'd finished.

They both tried, flapping their wings, but they didn't yet have the strength to perform the vertical lift. Gallan, always the practical one, didn't bother with the lift. It simply climbed up the mast pole. Immediately, Serdun and Ardayn followed, climbing up. Catren and Allwyn stayed behind, poking their heads into the empty bowl.

"Take it easy,' Tristan advised them. "You don't want to get fat."

Griff eyed the bigger man's rounded belly. "Spoken like a true expert."

Tristan turned on him. "It's all muscle!"

Brienne stepped between them and scooped up her dragons. Catren and Allwyn spoke to her in their usual little chirping.

Griff turned away from Tristan to observe the dragons. "Odd."

"What's odd?" Brienne leaned against the rail, a dragon tucked under each arm.

"They were the first two to start breathing fire." He reached out to scratch Catren between its wings, causing the brown and red dragon to start wiggling in Brienne's arms.

"Breathing fire might be easier for them,' Brienne pointed out, transferring Catren to Griff. "Flying requires wing strength. They'll learn soon."

She turned back to study the horizon, difficult now that full night rapidly darkened the sky. She stroked Allwyn, the grey and blue dragon held close, more to soothe herself than Allwyn. Griff also turned, Catren a limp weight in his arms, and studied the gathering darkness.

"This is the worst time," Brienne commented. "Limited visibility and no moonlight."

"The lack of visibility will keep most ships in harbor or anchored," Griff pointed out. "We're anchored so far out it's unlikely we'll encounter any of them."

"Even if anything comes, we're prepared." Tristan spoke from her other side. "We've had a full month to practice defensive maneuvers and counter shipboard attacks. We can take on anything. We're the _Golden Company_. Right, Griff?"

Griff was about to reply when the trio of dragons above them squawked loudly. They flapped their wings and puffed out their bodies.

Brienne looked up at them. "Something's wrong. They only puff up when they're defensive."

Griff looked around but there was nothing to see in the encroaching night. Candles were being lit, carefully encased in glass stands to prevent them from tipping and burning the wooden deck.

"Olmar, what do you see?" Griff called out to the lookout.

Olmar, in the lookout perch above the mast, looked around. "I don't see anything. All clear from here."

Tristan tried to peer through the darkness. "Should we put out the candles?"

"Too late," Griff said. "If anyone is coming for us, they've already fixed our position. We need the light to see around us. There's no moon so we can't go far with just the stars as a guide."

"I still don't see anything. I've been watching since before darkness fell. The waters were clear." Olmar called down. "Do you think something is coming now?"

Griff looked up to the dragons. Gallan, Serdun and Ardayn were still puffed up, their squawks high-pitched and urgent. Catren and Allwyn picked up on the tension and flapped their wings, wiggling to free themselves from Griff and Brienne.

"The dragons sense something," Brienne insisted. "Griff, you know they're not normally like this. We need to prepare."

Griff looked down at Catren struggling to get out of his arms. The brown and red dragon strained up towards the mast post, where the other dragons were perched, puffed and aggressive. Catren, like Griff, was born to lead. It wanted to be with the others. Griff nodded.

"Raise the defenses!" Griff thrust Catren back into Brienne's hands. "Prepare for attack!"

The men, perfectly trained with daily disciplined drills, were already in motion. Ropes lines were laid and tied down for hand grips; flat metal shields, as tall as Brienne's shoulders, were laced against the rails while squires fastened bags of arrows wrapped in oil-soaked cloth. Archers lined up behind the shields, their bodies protected up to their shoulders, with their squires stationed behind them, torches on the ready to be lit and set arrows aflame. Heavy, water-soaked leather tarps were unrolled to make the deck more flame resistant.

"The dragons!" Brienne held the wiggling Allwyn and tried to hold Catren. "We have to secure them below."

"Take them to your cabin," Griff ordered, striding to the center of the deck. "Stay with them."

Catren and Allwyn wrenched out of Brienne's arms and jumped to the mast pole. Both Griff and Tristan tried to grab them but, with their sharp little claws, they practically raced up the pole.

"Come back!" Brienne cried frantically. "It's not safe!"

"Zaldrīzoti, māzigon naejot issa!" Griff yelled up. (Dragons, come to me!)

The dragons refused his command to come down to him. They continued to flap and squawk, staring hard at something on the port side.

"They're looking left," Tristan observed. "Whatever they see, it's on the left side."

Griff nodded. "Archers, double the port side but leave defense on starboard! Olmar, do you see anything?"

Olmar stared hard into the darkness. "No, still nothing!"

"I trust the dragons," Brienne insisted. "If they're upset, then something is out there."

Griff nodded again. "I agree. They can see and sense a lot further can we can, especially in the dark. Brienne, get them below. We don't know if what's coming is for us or for them, but I'm not taking any chances."

"Zaldrīzoti, māzigon naejot issa!" Brienne pleaded, looking up at the dragons. "Please!"

Despite their tense situation, Tristan grinned. "Aye, that's how your counter bloodlust. Use your best manners."

"Bloodlust?" Brienne stared at the big man. "They don't have bloodlust."

"Not yet but they will," Tristan predicted. "Let them see someone come at their mother with spear or sword. Then the dragons will show bloodlust even a Dothraki bloodrider can't match."

Brienne and Griff stared at him in horror. Then Griff turned to Olmar.

"Throw down the dragons, Olmar!"

Olmar stared at him as if Griff had lost his mind. Still, he tried to reach for Serdun, the dragon closest to him. The green and orange dragon hissed and shifted away, beyond Olmar's reach.

"I can't get to them!" Olmar reported.

Before Griff could argue further, Serdun dropped. Gallan and Ardayn dropped seconds later. All three caught the air and glided past the _Sea Keeper_ and into the darkness beyond.

"No!" Brienne screamed and rushed to the railing.

Everyone turned to look past the port side. A deathly silence descended on the deck, is if they had all stopped breathing. Even Catren and Allwyn, still on the mast, stopped squawking. Long moments passed, the men ready and in positions. Anxiety and anticipation soured the air around them but no one wavered, gazes fixed and muscles locked, ready for whatever might come their way. Brienne could hear her blood pound in her ears as they waited, as still as possible on the gently rocking ship, ears strained for any sounds of impending attack.

There was the flare of dragonfire and in its illumination, Gallan, Serdun and Ardayn sitting on the mast of a large ship, sails fully extended, headed straight for them. A muffled roar, like a hundred screams, came from the pirate ship. The three streams of dragonfire concentrated on the same point, lighting the sail on fire, revealing not only the pirate ship but two other ships behind it. The screams of fear and shock became louder as the ships came closer.

"Three ships!" Olmar called. "They each have crows!"

"What's a crow?" Tristan demanded.

"It's a steel boarding plank with sharp claws," Brienne explained. "They'll use it attach to our ship and board." She called up to Olmar. "Are the flank ships behind or beside the lead ship?"

"Behind," Olmar reported.

Brienne turned to Griff. "That means they plan to chain their ships once they've attached to the _Sea Keeper_. They know they can't overwhelm us by surrounding us so they're going to come at us in waves, wear us down. This isn't a raid. They know they're against the _Golden Company_. They're here to kill."

Griff's blue eyes darkened to black. "Then death is what they shall have. We'll leave no man alive."

"What about the dragons?" Brienne demanded. "Ardayn, Serdun and Gallan are still there."

"Archers, aim low!" Griff ordered. "The dragons are on the mast of the lead ship."

Just then, the mast of the lead ship crumbled to the deck. The three dragons leapt into the air then glided into the night. Fire raced along the length of the pirate ship's deck, further illuminating the horrifying scene as men, some with their clothes on fire, beat at the flames.

"No!" Brienne screamed. "My dragons!"

"Brienne, fire can't kill a dragon!" Griff caught her arm and dragged her away from the railing.

She fought him. "No, but swords and arrows can!"

They heard a thud and stopped struggling to look. The ship behind the burning ship was still at full sails. It had run into the burning ship and drove it forward. The pirates hadn't anticipated a surprise assault from the _Sea Keeper_ nor had they prepared for a dragon attack.

"The lead is off course," Olmar called. "They can't lock their crows unless they turn the ship. The other ships are trying to use it as a battering ram."

"Archers, fire at will! Pole men, put out the ramming pole," Griff ordered. "We can't let their ship set us on fire. The pole will give us some distance. Olmar, call out the marks!"

Brienne stared at the burning hull, trying to find her dragons in the midst of the flames. The men all appeared to be either burning or putting out the flames, all while trying to dodge the barrage of flaming arrows from the _Sea Keeper_. None of the pirates appeared to be looking for or attacking a target. Still…

Olmar called out the marks, the flaming ship came closer, driven by the full sails of the flank ship behind it. Brienne knew what she had to do. She ran up to the bow of the _Sea Keeper_, near the ramming pole, to where there was a break in the shield line. The archers and their squires paid no attention to her, focused on shooting flaming arrows into any moving target.

"Brace for impact!" Olmar called.

The archers and squires stopped and ducked down, grabbing for hand holds. Brienne jumped up onto the wide railing then ran down the length, watching the burning ship drift closer, then dove across, crossing the divide as the burning ship hit the ram pole. The pirates barely noticed her, thrown by the impact, their screams of pain and panic throbbing in the air around them.

"Brienne!" Griff yelled. "No, Brienne!"

The burning ship shuddered as part of the hull collapsed and the flank ship drove into it. Fire jumped from the burning ship to the flank ship, licking at its bow. The other side would soon fail, too, forcing the Sea Keeper's ram pole to lock the ships together. Griff must have realized the danger, too.

"Pull in the ram pole! Put up sails!" she heard him order.

Men from the flank ship came to their ship's bow. Burning arrows rained down on them from the _Sea Keeper_. Brienne unsheathed _Oathkeeper_ and rose to her feet. She tried to ignore the flames and crackling wood around her. The fire was not her priority. Her dragons were here. She had to save them. It was her destiny.

The sword came at her out of nowhere. Brienne saw it from the corner of her vision and blocked it with _Oathkeeper_. The pirate brute was strong, hammering at her with repeated blows, driving her back with each bone-jarring clash of steel.

"Brienne!" Griff shouted. "Behind you."

She turned, quick enough to avoid a blade in her back but not quick enough to avoid the sword altogether. It sliced through her upper right arm then jammed against her collarbone. _Oathkeeper_ fell from her nerveless fingers. She kicked out hard to push the second assailant away. The first man sliced into her left thigh and she crumpled.

He raised his sword to bring it straight down into her heart. A burst of dragonfire set the man alight. The man screamed and backed away. Catren and Allwyn glided down beside Brienne, the bloodlust Tristan had spoken about shining in their cold, reptilian eyes. The second man stared in shock for an instant, long enough for the dragons to turn on him, setting his clothes ablaze.

Brienne tried to crawl back, her upper arm and thigh bleeding, burning wood crackling around her. More pirates leapt onto the burning ship, despite the rain of fiery arrows. She lunged for _Oathkeeper_ then snatched her hand back. The cloth strips covering the pommel were on fire. The air around her moved with the familiar swing of steel. Instinct made her throw her body back, flatten on the deck as the sword swung past her head.

Catren and Allwyn screeched in outrage, then blasted the swordsman. Brienne snatched up her sword, the pommel still hot but not unbearable. She rolled onto her knees, looking for a target. Someone came up behind her, she held up _Oathkeeper_ to block the thrust. She turned to face her opponent when a sword appeared pushing out of his chest. The man fell forward, revealing Griff behind him, _Firestorm_ dripping with the pirate's blood.

"Brienne, get up," Griff held out his free hand. "We have to get back to our ship. The _Sea Keeper_ is in full sail."

She looked over. The Sea Keeper was retreating from the burning ship. The archers were still keeping the pirates from the flank ship from rushing them but they would lose that protection in minutes.

"Third ship turning starboard!" Olmar called out.

The third ship was trying to go around the burning ship and reach the _Sea Keeper_ from the other side. A triple blast of dragonfire set its sails ablaze. Screams of rage and fear came from the ship. Then a roar, so full of fury it drowned out the closer screams, made the air around them tremble. Brienne's blood ran cold, even while surrounded by dragonfire, burning men and open flames.

"Griff, get off the ship!" she ordered. "It's coming!"

Griff looked around; _Firestorm_ held ready. "What, where?"

"The dragon!" Brienne yelled. "The dragon! Get off this ship!"

Then it was too late. The big dragon roared with uncontrolled rage. Its blast of dragonfire made the baby dragons' fire look like weak sparks in comparison, striking all three attacking ships in a single breath.

"Griff, no!" Brienne cried. "No!"

Griff, like every other man in the dragon's path, was on fire, his clothes curling into ashes as they fell from his body. It took Brienne a moment to comprehend, while the other men were falling to their knees or flat onto their faces, sobbing with agony, Griff was still _moving_. In fact, he moved so fast he was a blur of motion, his usual water dance style now transformed into a fire dance, _Firestorm_ an extension of his body as he cut through opponents and flames alike.

The big dragon roared again, this time concentrating its attack on the flank ships, as if it knew Griff would take care of the men on the first ship himself. Brienne, unable to look away from living flame that was Griff, barely registered the five small dragons surrounding her, her lethal bodyguards with bloodlust in their eyes and death in their mouths.

Griff finally stopped, breathing heavily, the fire around him a pale comparison to the flames in his nearly black eyes. Naked, muscles taunt and ready, sweaty skin unmarked and healthy, sword held aloft, surrounded by the dead and the defeated, even the mythical Titan of Braavos would not be his equal.

"You, you…" she stammered. "You're not burnt."

"No." His smile was sharper than the Valyrian steel blade in his hand. "I'm the blood of the dragon."


	11. Blood Keeper

**THE KEEPER**

**Chapter 11: Blood Keeper **

Brienne stared at Griff until he grabbed her arm and pulled her up. _Firestorm_ glistened with blood and fire in his sword hand. The little dragons squawked and fluttered around them.

"We need to leave." He pushed her towards the railing.

The burning deck crumbled under their feet, causing her to stumble, but instinct took over. She threw off his hand to jump over the burning railing and dive into the blackened waters. Her wet clothes, injuries and _Oathkeeper_ hampered her efforts to fight back to the surface. She sunk down into the depths, the water cooler away from the heat of the battle. Griff's arm came around her waist and he propelled them both above the waterline.

"The dragons,' she gasped, kicking hard, barely noticing the aching pain from her arm and thigh.

"There!" Griff pointed with _Firestorm_.

The burning ships provided illumination. Brienne calmed when she saw the five glide across to the _Sea Keeper_. The relief died when the big dragon reappeared, this time hovering over the attacking ships.

"Get down!" Griff dragged them under as the dragon roared again.

Through the haze of water, they watched the prolonged burst of dragonfire the dragon inflicted on the attack boats. They would be reduced to ashes. Brienne's lungs were burning for air by the time the dragon paused. She and Griff broke to the surface again, gasping for breath. The dragon circled, as if looking for another target.

"No, not the _Sea Keeper_!" Brienne cried.

Five sparks of dragonfire appeared from the _Sea Keeper's_ mast rope. The big dragon circled one more time then flew off into the darkness. A heavy stillness fell over the water, the last remnants of the attack ships hissing and steaming, the _Golden Company_ men still on the ready, prepared for a possible next wave of attack.

Brienne deliberately focused on swimming back to the _Sea Keeper_, knowing she had to get to the five before allowing her mind to be overwhelmed by what she'd seen. The five small dragons were her responsibility, not the big dragon who had burned hundreds of men in mere minutes or the blue-haired dragon beside her, who had not burned at all while dancing through the flames with his own kind of fire power.

The dragons squawked from the mast rope above them but the men were quiet, still focused on watching the waters below, as she climbed up the rope and dragged herself to the deck. Tristan hauled her over the rail and dropped her like a sack of potatoes. Brienne sucked in air in harsh gasps, shoving her wet hair away from her face.

"Brienne, that was fucking insane!" Tristan lip curled. "I thought Griff was going to kill _you_ when he jumped to their ship. What possessed you to jump onto a fucking _burning_ ship?"

The big man scowled at her but still offered a hand to help her up. Brienne had to use her left hand since her right arm had stiffened and no longer obeyed her commands. The dragons glided down to her, chirping urgently.

"The dragons were on that ship," she reminded him. "I had to protect them."

"Protect who?" Griff snarled from behind her. "The dragons who don't burn and can glide from ship to ship? The crew that had to leave holes in our defense to avoid hitting you and thereby endangering all our lives? Your own _stupid_ self by jumping into the line of fire and forcing the dragons to defend you? Me, who had to jump across to save you? You endangered all of us with your thoughtless actions. I should throw you in solitary as punishment."

He wrapped a cloth around his waist and tied it with a vicious jerk. With his blue hair plastered to his head, eyes sparking fire and water running down to soak into his makeshift skirt, he again evoked the image of the Titan of Braavos. Brienne suddenly remembered what their ship's captain had said when she and Pod had first seen the statue.

"_In the old times, whenever Braavos stood in danger, the titan would step with fire in his eyes._"

Griff had certainly done that but he wasn't the Titan, he was a _dragon_.

"They weren't the only ones who didn't burn." Brienne snarled. "Who _are_ you?"

Griff went very still and Tristan stiffened beside her. The men, already silent and watching the waters, focused on their duties with greater intensity. Even the little dragons fell silent, watching Griff as he took a deep breath and calmed himself.

"Go to your cabin," he ordered. "We have to secure the ship and assure there's not another wave of attack coming at us."

She stood her ground. "I want the truth."

"You'll have it," he snapped, "once I secure our ship."

He turned away from her. Brienne tried to speak again but Tristan took her arm.

"Let him work," Tristan advised, "and calm down. You'll have your answers."

Tristan tugged but not harshly. Brienne resisted, watching the men react to Griff as he barked out orders.

"Search the waters. Double the guards. Shoot flaming arrows into anything that moves." Griff strode rapidly towards the bow. "Leave no pirate alive."

The men reacted with practiced precision, not at all shocked to have witnessed their commander fight while in flames. In fact, most of them grinned and nodded, as if the display had validated their faith in their leader.

"You know what he is," Brienne whispered as she allowed Tristan to take her below. "You all know."

He didn't reply as he guided her to her cabin, the dragons trailing after them. Her door didn't have a latch, but that hadn't been an issue. No one was unprofessional or stupid enough to barge in on fire breathing dragons. The room wasn't large, just big enough for a bunk fastened to one wall, a desk affixed to the opposite wall and space to cross from one to the other in two steps.

"Who is he, Tristan?" Brienne demanded. "Why he didn't burn when struck by dragonfire?"

Tristan gave her a hard look. "I think a woman raising dragons can answer that for herself."

Brienne stared at him. His eyes gave nothing away. Tristan waited for the dragons to enter the room before he silently closed the door behind himself. Brienne sunk down into the chair to remove her boots, sword belt and wet clothes. Her right arm had swollen and she couldn't raise it. She toed off her boots and used her left hand to unfasten the belt.

The dragons perched on the chairback and the table beside her, chirping comfortingly. Brienne reached out to Serdun, the dragon closest to her hand. She stroked under his head, the soft join at the neck, where the dragons were most sensitive.

"You were magnificent," she said, smiling at all of them. "Sȳrī gaomagon." (well done)

The dragons crowded close, rubbing against her. Allwyn hopped into her lap and Brienne winced in pain as the sharp little claws dug into the sword slice in her upper thigh. Her wound was still bleeding and swelling, a warning signal of pending infection. She had barely struggled out of the chair when the door was thrown open.

Griff stood there, now dressed in dark breeches and a lighter tone shirt, the colors muted in the dim candle light. He came into the room, revealing the young squires behind him. One squire brought in a tray with a jug, a bottle of wine, a pile of cloth, a large bowl and more candles.

"I'm not thirsty," Brienne insisted.

The dragons looked up in interest. Allwyn and Catren went from Brienne to Griff, then tried to go past him to the squires with their heavy trays.

"Your reward is coming." Griff carried Catren and Allwyn, who poked their heads into the bowl. "Put the first tray on the chair and let the dragons have the table. Then get out. No one is to disturb us unless there is another attack, understood?"

The squires quickly arranged the trays and left the room. The dragons gathered around the desk and chirped in delight. They fired into the metal bowl then feasted on whatever treat Griff had brought for them.

"Who are you?" Brienne demanded, glancing sideways at _Oathkeeper_, sheathed out of her reach.

Griff stared at her for a moment, dark blue eyes still angry and narrowed. Then he nodded, as if coming to a decision. "My name, my _real_ name is Aegon Targaryen, the rightful King of Westeros."

Brienne returned his stare. "Aegon Targaryen died as a baby during Robert's Rebellion."

Griff snorted. "That's what my enemies were led to believe. I was snuck out of the Red Keep and smuggled to Braavos just before the sacking of King's Landing. I grew up with a false name, a false identity and even false hair color."

She looked down at her dragons. "That's a convenient story. How can you prove your claim?"

He stared at her. "Fire doesn't harm me."

"Yes, that means you have the blood of the dragon," she agreed. "It's no secret that King Aerys and most of the Targaryen men had bastards. How will you prove you're the son of Rhaegar Targaryen and Elia Martell, the true ruler of the seven kingdoms?"

His expression became stark. "I'll prove my claim when I take the Iron Throne."

"And your men? They believe your claim, don't they?" Brienne sunk down on the bed, the only place to sit.

"Yes." Griff sat down beside her and dragged the chair closer.

"I'm not thirsty," she repeated, looking at the water and wine on the tray.

He uncorked the wine and poured it into the bowl. "It's not for you to drink. It's to clean your wounds before I bind them."

"You know how to bind wounds?"

"I know many things. From the moment I could walk, I've worked. From the moment I could understand, I've learned." He held up the bottle. "For example, I've learned that wine, strong enough to sting the throat, decreases swelling and corruption in wounds."

"Thank you for the wine." She tried to shift away from him but there wasn't much room in the cabin, not with the dragons crowding close to them. "I can bind my own wounds."

He raised his brow. "That sword went in through your arm and out your shoulder. I'm surprised you can even move it now."

"Actually, I can't," she admitted.

"Let me see," he shifted closer and picked up a candle.

He lit the bigger candle from the flame of the slim candle beside the bunk then brought it close to her wound. Instinctively, she pulled away when she felt the heat of the flame.

"Brienne, fire cannot hurt a dragon." Still he stopped, keeping the flame away from her arm.

"I'm not a dragon."

He frowned but put down the candle. "Then how did you birth the five?"

"No." She shook her head. "I told you, I didn't birth them. I _found_ them."

Something sharp flickered in the depths of his dark blue eyes, but his voice was even. "Brienne, men have been scouring all of Essos to find dragon eggs. There are whole companies whose sole duty is to follow the dragon, then search the areas where it lands. You say you just wandered into a cave in the middle of nowhere, that no one had ever found before, were guided to baby dragons then guarded when you brought them back. Do you hear how false that sounds?"

Heat flushed her cheeks. "No falser than you lying to me about your identity and your reasons for helping me."

The sharp flicker in his eyes turned into a flare. "I did not lie to you. This is the secret I've kept my entire life. It's why I'm still alive. As for my reasons for helping you, you approached _me_ at the dock in Braavos, wanting to work for passage to Tyrosh, remember?"

She frowned but said nothing.

"Then you asked me to provide you safe passage into the Disputed Lands, without telling me why you wanted to go," he continued. "I didn't question you, even when you came back and begged me to get you out of Tyrosh immediately, again without telling me why."

He paused for a beat, allowing his words to sink in. She shifted her gaze away from him, to the dragons who were settling themselves, heads and wings drooping.

"Every time you needed help, I helped you, without knowing why. Don't accuse me of being false to you."

He stopped speaking when his voice began to rise, allowing the silence to settle heavily between them. Even the dragons were quiet now, draping themselves on the pillows and the bunk around them.

"As for not being a dragon." His voice drew her attention back to him. "Look at your sleeve."

She frowned and looked down at her wounded arm. The sea water had soaked the material and washed away some of the gore but fresh blood oozed out of the tear. The wound began to throb now that she was paying attention to it.

"Your other sleeve," Griff directed, his voice suddenly amused.

Brienne looked and froze. There was no other sleeve, only the charred remains of material near her left shoulder.

"Your shirt caught fire when the pirate sliced into your thigh." He ran his fingers lightly over her back, over the tender skin she didn't realize was exposed. "You put it out yourself when you fell back to avoid that blade. Your back is red but not burnt. Catren and Allwyn burned off your left sleeve when they fired on the pirates. Is your arm burnt?"

Stunned, Brienne looked at her arm again. Her skin was red and raw but unburnt and unbroken. She shook her head.

"I'm not a dragon, how can I be a dragon?" she protested. "I'm from Tarth, the daughter of the Evenstar. Only Targaryens are connected to dragons."

"Yes," he agreed, "only Targaryens are connected to dragons, only Targareyns can't be hurt by fire. You cannot be hurt by fire, so you must have some blood of the dragon."

It sounded logical but it also sounded _insane_.

"No," she protested. "I am my parents' daughter. I have my father's eyes. A fire started outside my birthing room the night I was born. My mother couldn't be moved. The men formed a chain to bring water from the Straits of Tarth to put out the flames. Women fanned my mother to keep the salt and smoke from reaching her or me. My birth was witnessed by many women, so I am truly my mother's daughter."

Griff stared at her for a moment, his face pale. Then he took a deep breath, almost as if he was centering himself.

"What about your grandparents?" He picked up the candle again. "I'm only half Targaryen and I have the blood of the dragon. We don't know how much dragon's blood it takes to be a dragon."

Brienne looked at the candle flame and remembered Jamie speaking the bath at Harrenhall.

"_Burn them all, he kept saying, burn them all. I don't think he expected to die." _

"Is this known?" Brienne whispered. "Is that why the Targaryen kings were so fond of wildfire? Is that why the Mad King…"

She stopped, suddenly realizing the Mad King might be Griff's grandfather. Griff could be the grandson of King Aerys, the son of Prince Rhaegar, the heir to the Iron Throne. She was sitting on a bunk, stinking of fire and blood, surrounded by dragons, afloat in the Narrow Sea with the possible true ruler of the Seven Kingdoms.

"Is that why the Mad King was so obsessed with burning his enemies or those he thought were his enemies?" Griff finished her thoughts. "Is that why he thought he'd be reborn as a dragon?"

She blushed, "I'm sorry, I had no right to say that. It wasn't my place -"

"Why not? It's true," he interrupted her fumbled apology. "I told you I started to learn as soon as I could understand. I know about my grandfather. I know he became insane and destabilized all of Westeros. I know my father was a weak man who was led by his cock and not his brain. They were arrogant fools who believed that being king was their right, not their responsibility."

"What do you mean?"

"They thought everything was theirs to have, to command, to destroy." Griff's mouth turned down as he spoke. "And destroy they did. Even before they destroyed their own reigns, they spread destruction. They experimented with fire and with wildfire, trying to turn themselves into dragons. Before my grandfather, other Targaryens were obsessed with fire, with trying to hatch dragon eggs. I was named after Aegon the fifth. He, his heir Duncan and the Lord Commander of the Kingsguard, Ser Duncan the Tall, were killed during a fire at Summerhall for that obsession."

"Ser Duncan is an ancestor of mine," Brienne offered. "We have one of his shields in our armory at Evenfall. Serdun is named after him."

"That doesn't surprise me." Griff smiled, glancing over at the sleepy green and orange dragon. "Our lineage is bound together for several generations. We may have many relations."

"But Aegon the fifth and Duncan, his son, died during the fire. How is that possible if they're immune to fire?"

"Being a Targaryen isn't enough to make a person immune to fire." Griff gently probed the tear around her wound. "Take the candle. I have to rip open your shirt to clean and bind your arm and shoulder."

She pulled the edges of the tear closed with her left hand. "It's fine. I can do it myself."

He raised his eyebrow. "You're going to bind your shoulder with one hand?"

The hated blush colored her skin from forehead to toes. She knew what she looked like, a warrior with scars and muscles when most women had unblemished skin and delicate figures.

"Kings shouldn't perform menial tasks such as cleaning wounds," she mumbled, trying to shift away from him.

"Most kings would be far better rulers if they did." He thrust the candle into her hand. "Perhaps if they saw the results of their commands, they would think carefully before they made decisions. I've had to severe corrupted limbs and gather up innards to keep men alive."

He grabbed the bloody edges of her shirt sleeve and pulled them apart. The thin, wet material tore open to neck and wrist. Brienne gasped. She tried to fumble with her injured arm to cover her meager breast but he grabbed her hand.

"Stop moving and bring the candle closer," her ordered.

Her skin flushed such a deep red, it made the injured skin look pale in comparison. Griff looked up into her eyes, his mouth pulled down into a frown.

"Brienne, we are beyond modesty," he said quietly. "We're in the middle of the sea, in darkness, hours away from the closest port. Your wounds have been soaking in salt water and they appear infected. Do you want me to clean them or do you want to lose your arm?"

She thought of Jamie again, of how he had nearly allowed himself to die when he lost his hand. She'd bullied and scolded him to keep him alive. _One taste, one taste of the real world_. A bitter taste, one she didn't want to experience.

"Well?' Griff's impatient voice interrupted her thoughts.

She blinked as the image of Jamie's chiseled jawline, sculpted cheekbones and weathered skin was replaced by Griff's young, refined, too-beautiful features. Fiery green eyes melted into cool, fathomless blue.

"What do you want me to do?" she asked quietly.

"Hold the candle closer so I can see." He soaked a cloth in the bowl of wine. "This will hurt."

She nodded, preparing herself. Still, she barely muffled the grunt when the wine bit into her torn skin. She looked at the dragons. They gathered closer, watching anxiously, chirping in comfort.

"It's going to get worse," he warned her. "I have to lift you arm to clean those wounds then bind your arm and shoulder separately."

She nodded, gritting her teeth to keep from crying out. It wasn't so bad now that she was ready for it. He worked quickly, alternating between water and wine to wash out the salt and blood, then binding the injuries with clean cloth. Even so, she sighed with relief when he finally took the candle and pushed her back to lie on the bunk. Immediately, the dragons gathered around her, surrounding her with their heavy, hot weight, chirping anxiously.

"Are you okay?" He studied her pale, sweaty face and shifted Gallan from where it was too close to her bindings. "I still have to look at your leg."

She nodded. "That won't be so bad. It's just a cut."

He nodded. She heard him tear her breeches and willed herself not to blush.

"You…you were telling me about the fire at Summerhall." She spoke more to distract herself than him. "Why did the king and his heir die in the fire if they were Targaryen?"

"Very few Targaryens had dragon's blood," Griff explained as he pressed the wine-soaked cloth to her thigh. "Even Daenerys's brother Viserys was killed by fire when he angered Khal Drago."

She hissed in a sharp breath. "Who?"

"The Dothraki warlord the Dragon Queen married. Khal means 'king' in Dothraki." Griff wound clean cloth around her thigh. "Your leg will be fine after a few days. It's just cut. Nothing was severed."

She relaxed. "That's good."

She could feel light scales and emerging spikes under her left hand. She rubbed gently and felt the shudder that passed the length of the small dragon. _Ardayn_. She looked down and blinked. The silver-grey dragon blinked back and rubbed its head against her arm. How had she known which dragon she'd been petting without looking at it?

Griff also looked down at the dragons, his expression thoughtful. "I think the reason the dragons have returned is that all three of us have the blood of the dragon."

She struggled to sit up but it was difficult with only one arm and dragons all around her. She gave up the effort. "What do you mean?"

Griff moved Allwyn and Serdun so he could stretch out beside her, his head resting on his hand. The dragons squawked in protest but resettled on the pillow above their heads.

"I've been told Rhaegar believed a prophecy that said the dragon must have three heads. There were no living dragons at the time, so he took it to mean he should have three children, hopefully all with dragon's blood. Then he died at the Trident and my sister died at the sacking of King's Landing. I hadn't thought much about the prophecy until Daenerys birthed her dragons. We now have three people with the blood of the dragon thus she was able to bring three dragons into the world."

"You think having enough dragon's blood in the world allowed the dragons to be born? But there are more than three dragons," Brienne pointed out. "Daenerys birthed the big dragon, now that dragon has birthed these five."

"Exactly." Griff smiled at the dragons gathered around them. "Magic is a power. It was dormant for so long because there wasn't enough energy – dragon's blood – for it to draw upon. Dragons and magic are now coming back into the world."

She also looked at the dragons snuggling down, taking up more room, pushing them closer.

"But why did the Gods choose this as the time to bring back dragon's blood?" she wondered. "What kind of threat is coming that will require a dragon with three heads?"

"I don't know." Griff's eyes darkened as he thought. "I suspect we'll find out when the time is right."

She frowned, trying to follow his logic. "You think something is coming that requires dragons to counter it? To use them as a defensive strategy or as weapons?"

He hesitated. "It's possible."

"No," she said firmly. "I won't allow it."

"You won't allow it." He flopped onto his back and laughed harshly. "How do you plan to stop it?"

She glared at him. "By stopping the dragons."

He rolled on his side to stare at her. "How? These dragons set ships and men on fire to protect you. They're bonded to you. It's their instinct to keep you safe. How will you control their nature?"

She stared back at him, speechless.

His expression softened. "Do you know why the dragons became extinct?"

She shook her head.

"They died off because my ancestors believed it was their right to control everything, including the dragons." Fire flared in his eyes again. "They locked up the dragons in pits, denied them sunshine and freedom, limited their movement and kept them from flight. Like any chained creature, they weakened in captivity. The kings feared they couldn't control the dragons so they suppressed them, causing the dragons born to become smaller and weaker. Finally, the dragon eggs no longer hatched. The so-called wise kings were so bloated with their own power, they diminished the magic of the dragons. They forgot kingship is a duty, not a right."

Brienne said nothing as she watched the fire blaze brighter in his eyes.

"Do you know why the dragons have returned?" Griff asked.

She shook her head again.

"They've come back because a strong leader is here to guide Westeros forward. No longer will the people have to endure mad, cruel or incompetent rulers. They will soon have a king who will put the people first. I won't make men or dragons smaller." He cupped her cheek, his long, elegant fingers sliding into her hair. "Brienne, are you with me? Will you join me in leading Westeros to a great and glorious future?"

A great and glorious future. A king who saw the people, not as subjects he would control but as men and women he would serve. One who didn't limit his acceptance only to those who matched some perfect ideal, but would embrace those least wanted and most abused by society. A good man with _honor_, who understood the value of oaths and honesty, who ruled with kindness, who would never force those under his command to make impossible, dishonorable choices.

Brienne's heart began to beat faster. He was saying what she longed to hear. She knew hers was not a future of handsome lords or pretty flattery. Her future was to serve under a great leader, one who gave the best of himself to bring out the best in those he protected. Could Griff be that man? A king _of_ the people instead of a king _over_ the people?

"Can you really do that?" she whispered.

He leaned closer. "I can, if you join me."

Brienne's heart hammered so hard she feared it would jump out of her chest. She had known men of honor before. Renly had been an angel, too sweet and too gentle to be long in such a cruel world. His claim to the Iron Throne had been weak, she'd known, but he'd been a kind and just man, who'd seen beyond her outer shell to the person inside.

Jamie was the image of the Warrior himself, with beauty so clean and sharp, touching it could make a woman bleed. Jamie had shown honor, when she had desperately needed it, had even risked his life for hers. But Jamie had a terrible weakness; a love for his family that overruled logic and reason, that nearly broke him time and time again.

Could this one, _Griff_, with his blue hair and his blue eyes, his promises of a new, better world, could he truly be a knight in shining armor, coming to rescue all of Westeros? What he offered was all she had hoped for. But what would be the cost? Renly had lost his life, Jamie his hand. What price would Griff pay, what price would _she_ pay, for that vision?

Griff shifted closer, his other hand cupped her chin, so their gazes met. His deep blue eyes had darkened almost to black. She didn't know if she should push him away or pull him closer. What did he want? What did she want? Accept what he offered with no reservations or reject his offer without hesitation? The battle between her mind and her heart made her light-headed.

_No_, he is false, her head screamed.

_Yes_, he is hope, her blood throbbed.

His mouth curved into a dark smile. _She knew that smile_. It called to her, at the same time as it sent chills through her, the secrets that surrounded him. It was possible Griff was no knight, no hero. He could wear the face of a false angel; be a demon sent to lead her into all of the seven hells. Brienne feared she might go willingly, as long as she had that smile to numb the tortures of eternity.

She stood on the edge of the precipice, unable to flee back to safety, equally unable to fall into the darkness. She knew, with terrible certainty, the decision she made would have ramifications far beyond herself, beyond this quiet, dark night, even beyond the dragons. She was the Gods' warrior, the instrument of their will. Could she stay true to them while also staying true to herself?


	12. Vow Keeper

**THE KEEPER**

**Chapter 12: Vow Keeper **

Two months later…

"Valyria?" Brienne stared at Griff in open-mouthed shock. "You want us to go to Valyria? To islands of fire, boiling seas and greyscale? Why?"

"For the dragons." Griff indicated with a wave of his hand. "They need more room to roam."

They were back in the meeting room at the _Golden Company's_ office in Tyrosh. The long, dark room had no windows, only doors on both ends. The door they'd entered through was shut while the other door was barred from the inside. Candles were lit around the room for light, creating a warm, womb-like sense. The crate they'd used to smuggle the dragons into the city rested in the corner, wooden lid against it. The dragons screeched and flew in circles, flapping their now impressive wings.

"Brienne, look at them," Griff indicated with his hand. "They can barely contain themselves."

"They have plenty of room to roam," Brienne argued. "The seas are quite wide. They're only upset because they were in a dark crate while we brought them to the office."

"Your cabin wasn't much bigger. They didn't have enough space. That's why they set it on fire." Griff scowled.

"No, they set my cabin on fire by accident," she insisted firmly. "Their fire strength and range are increasing. They don't understand their own power."

"Exactly," Griff agreed quickly. "We have fire-breathing dragons on a wooden ship. It's only a matter of time before they create a fire we cannot put out before it burns out of control. They need more space."

"You're annoyed because they don't like your pacing at night," Brienne grumbled. "It disturbs their sleep."

"I don't pace, I plan," he corrected. "I review previous battle strategies to understand what failed, what succeeded and why. If one does not learn from history, they will be taught by it."

Brienne opened her mouth to speak but the door leading to the main room opened. She sprang from her chair to face the entrance. The dragons rushed to their side. Gallan, Catren and Allwyn stationed themselves on the table in front of them, Ardayn perched on Griff's left shoulder while Serdun landed on Brienne's. She gently rotated her right shoulder to center her balance. The injury to her sword arm and shoulder had healed well, due to Griff's careful ministrations, but she was still working on regaining her strength.

It was Tristan, followed by Serjeant Loth and another man. The dragons squawked in greeting but didn't alter their defensive positions. Tristan strolled into the room but Serjeant and the other man remained in the doorway, eyes wide.

"Aye, Serjeant, Commander." Tristan grinned. "You look as if you've never seen a dragon up close before."

Serjeant cleared his throat. "Aye, I've seen one. Don't really want to see it up close again."

The other man blinked rapidly, as if his mind was trying to process what he was seeing.

"They took defensive positions when we came to the door." He looked at Griff. "Did you teach them that?"

The man and Serjeant tried to come into the room. The dragons hissed and puffed; their warning clear. The men froze in the doorway.

"Nah, they do that to everybody. They're naturally protective of Brienne." Tristan crossed to the other side of the table and gently stroked Allwyn, who was closest to him. The grey and blue dragon accepted his touch but didn't alter its aggressive stance.

"Ardayn, māzigon naejot issa," Brienne ordered softly.

Ardayn looked at her while still perched on Griff's shoulder. Griff shrugged and the dragon jumped to the table, behind Allwyn, Catren and Gallan, close to Brienne. Tristan sat down with a delighted smirk creasing his weathered, battered face.

"Aye, they're protective of Brienne," he repeated. "Griff, they don't care about so much."

Griff ignored him to address the men. "They'll be fine once they know you're not a threat. Sit on the other side and keep your hands on the table. They'll come to you when they're ready."

"Come, sit," Tristan encouraged, patting the chair next to his. "They'll warm up to you or…" his grin was wicked, "they'll warm you up."

Brienne glared at Tristan but said nothing as she seated herself. The dragons remained defensive, watching the men enter the room. They came to the table and sat down, moving slowly and carefully, trying not to look at the dragons. Their postures were ramrod stiff and their jaws were locked. They sat on the same side as Tristan but far enough away to satisfy the dragons, who relaxed noticeably.

Griff sat down next to Brienne, pulling Serdun and Catren closer. Tristan again stroked Allwyn. This time it relaxed its stance and went to him. The unknown man watched their interactions carefully.

"It's one thing to read reports about the five," he commented. "It's quite another to see them."

The dragons were a sight. They were as big as cats, with their translucent wings now grown to almost double the length of their bodies, strengthened by constant flying and swimming. A definite scale pattern had appeared on their backs and their colors were more vibrant.

"Brienne, this is our commander, Harry Strickland," Griff introduced. "Commander, this is Brienne of Tarth."

"Reports?" Brienne barely nodded to Harry before turning to Griff. "There are written reports about the dragons?"

"Not by name or description," Harry assured her. "We understand the best way to protect them is to make sure no one knows about them."

He was a shorter man with a round face and cool, calculating grey eyes. Unlike Serjeant and Tristan, Harry dressed in somber clothes and his greying dark hair looked to be his natural color.

"Then why are we here?" Brienne demanded. "If you understand how important it is to keep them secret, why did we come back to Tyrosh?"

Griff sighed. "Wooden boats do not stand up well against dragonfire. We had to take the dragons off the ship while it's being repaired. Even when the ship is fixed, we face the same problem. We need to give the dragons a home where they can roam free, remain concealed and not risk them burning us in our sleep."

"How can Valyria be that place?" she demanded. "It's full of disease and horrors; men made of stone, blood magic and boiling seas."

"Not all of it," Harry interjected quietly. "The east side of the ruined city is closer to Slaver's Bay. We set up a post there. It's been operational for almost two months. Griff anticipated you'd need a better hiding place after the first dragon attack."

"The dragon did not attack the _Sea Keeper_. It only burned the pirate ships," Brienne clarified. "It came to protect these five. The big dragon birthed them. They're linked."

"Let's go over that again," Harry requested. "Explain to me how five little dragons, just a month old at the time, were able to destroy three pirate ships."

"They didn't destroy the pirate ships. The big dragon did that," Griff corrected. "We would have handled the pirates on our own, without its help."

"All the dragons did was light up their sails," Tristan grumbled. "They did the work of a fallen candle."

"Candles that knew to split up?" Serjeant snorted. "Candles that are ready now to burn us if we get too close to Brienne?"

"They think of her as their mother," Griff said, his voice suddenly wary. "Their first instinct is always to protect her."

"The dragon birthed these five but they believe Brienne is their mother." Harry's voice was suspiciously neutral. "She walked into the Disputed Lands with no protection and walked out with a score of slaver's horses and five baby dragons. I think there are a few details missing in her story."

Griff looked at her. Brienne took a deep breath. Griff hadn't pressed her, even though he knew she hadn't told him the full truth. It was as if they'd agreed to keep their secrets to themselves, existing a quiet, safe bubble separate from the world. But now the world had drawn them back. He had protected her without hesitation, guarded her dragons without complaint and accepted her more than any man she'd ever known. The dragons trusted him. Shouldn't she?

"Three and half months ago, Joffery Baratheon was poisoned in King's Landing." She moved Serdun from her shoulder and placed the dragon on the table. "I was there to exchange Ser Jaime Lannister for Sansa and Arya Stark, the daughters of my Lady Catelyn Stark."

"Wasn't Sansa Stark married to Tyrion Lannister, the imp?" Harry asked.

Brienne blinked. How had Harry known that?

"Yes, but not willingly. She escaped Kings Landing during the confusion. I caught up with her sister Arya on the road to Gulltown but lost her. We, my squire Podrick and I, thought she might have taken a ship to Braavos. While in Braavos, we met a saltwater priest who told me to come to Tyrosh." She nodded to the men. "That's when we met Griff, Serjeant Loth and Tristan. They brought us to Tyrosh."

"During which our crew engaged and slew pirates," Serjeant added. "It was our first successful sea operation."

Brienne nodded. "Once here, I met a Red Priestess who told me to ride into the Disputed Lands to find my guide."

Griff spoke through clenched teeth. "Some strange woman, a priestess in a religion that practices human sacrifice, told you to go into lawless territory, without protection, and you went? Why did you do something so dangerous?"

"She knew about my sword."

Griff stared down at _Oathkeeper_, the lion pommel now once again displayed. "What about it?"

Brienne hesitated then continued. "She knew I carried a part of Ned Stark's greatsword and she knew where the other part was, as well. It's only right that Ned Stark's sword be used to protect Ned Stark's daughters."

"Then what happened?" Harry asked.

"Griff arranged for me to use the company outposts until there were no more. Then I rode off by myself. I road for half a day before I saw a hill in the distance. It was the only oddness on the horizon so I decided to investigate it. Then…" She paused, sorting the events in her mind.

"Then what?" Serjeant prodded.

"The lions," she murmured. "I'd forgotten about them. How could I forget them?"

"The Lannisters?" Harry repeated. "What about them?"

"No, not Lannisters, real lions," she clarified. "I hadn't seen anyone or anything for hours then I was attacked by a pride of lions."

"What?" Griff turned sharply in his seat to stare at her.

The dragons, who had relaxed their positions and appeared to be listening to her tale, squawked and flapped their wings. Harry and Serjeant leaned back in their chairs, as if trying to put more distance between themselves and a possible attack. It took a moment to calm the dragons enough for Brienne to continue.

"The lions attacked and maimed my horse. That's when the dragon first protected me. It chased off the lions. But I was so scared at the time I crawled away from it."

"Crawled?" Griff hissed.

"Yes, I was also injured by the lions. I crawled up the hill and found the cave. I passed out in the cave and had a fever dream." She frowned. "Or I thought it was a fever dream. The first part was definitely a dream since I was swimming in Tarth. Then I was woken by the setting sun in the cave and the sound of horses. Slavers found me and tried to drag me out."

"Yes, that makes sense." Harry glanced at the relaxing dragons before easing his posture. "There are whole companies to investigate the grounds where the dragon lands. They would have shown up after a dragon sighting."

"Yes." Brienne nodded. "They laughed over me, pulled me up by my hair then the dragon was there again. It breathed fire into the cave and I closed my eyes. When I opened them, the men were gone and I was so weak. My clothes had burned off and my leg wasn't bleeding anymore."

Griff nodded. "Fire can close wounds. I've done that in battle. Fighters lose limbs so we burn the injury to stop the blood flow."

Brienne nodded and looked at the dragons. "That's when I first heard the dragons chirping. I thought I was still dreaming. But they were still there when I awoke the next morning."

"Think carefully, Brienne," Harry spoke. "Do you remember seeing any more dragon eggs?"

She shook her head. "I don't recall seeing _any_ dragon eggs. I was bleeding and wounded. The cave was just dirt and rocks when I entered it and a black crystal when I left it, like the dirt and rocks had melted."

"The dragonfire burned them," Serjeant concluded. "Then what happened?"

"More men came the next morning, twice as many as the day before. I waited inside the cave so they'd have to come to me. I killed three of them before the dragon came to burn the others. I took their clothes, horses and weapons. I didn't encounter anything on my way back so I knew the dragon was still protecting us. The rest you should already have in your _reports_."

She emphasized the last word, unsure how she felt knowing they'd been so closely monitored. Griff picked up on her discontent.

"Brienne, this is part of the reason we're the greatest fighting force in the free world," He said quietly. "We know information is a power. You can't expect I would keep this from the people who are helping me protect you."

Brienne nodded. It was unrealistic to think Griff wasn't keeping the company informed. More than that, he was taking active steps to care for the dragons, trying to find ways to keep them all safe while keeping his promise to never chain them.

"We sent men to explore the area," Harry reported. "The cave had been demolished. The men said it looked like giant claws had raked the hilltop to collapse it. Other teams had already started digging in the area. All they found was the remains of three men, two with their throats cut and the other with a torn chest."

He paused to look at Brienne. She nodded.

"Our men stated the other teams found nothing. I've checked with our sources. There have been no whispers of new dragon eggs or new dragons. But sightings of the big dragon have become more frequent." He paused to look at Griff. "And there have been more reports of trouble from Slaver's Bay. The masters are taking back the cities the Dragon Queen conquered."

Griff nodded. Brienne could almost see him thinking, adding this new information to the pieces he already had, shifting them into possible plans and strategies.

"Are we done? Can I give her commission now?" Serjeant asked

"Commission?" Brienne asked. "What commission?"

Serjeant cleared his throat. "You've been working with us for three months now."

She nodded. "Yes, because Griff and his crew have been protecting the dragons."

"Aye," Serjeant agreed. "You led our first successful sea attack, helped create our first offensive plan and fought bravely."

"But foolishly," Griff muttered, quietly enough for only Brienne to hear.

"I've officially accepted you as an officer in my ranks." Serjeant pulled out a scroll. "I know you're used to being under Griff…"

Serjeant broke off as Tristan suddenly went into a coughing, choking fit, his face turning as red as his hair. They all, including the dragons, stared at him. Griff rose from his seat, leaned over the table and used the heel of his hand to hit Tristan in the forehead.

Tristan howled in outrage as his head jerked back. "What did you do that for?"

"For your health," Griff snarled. "You're supposed to hit a man who's choking."

Tristan rubbed his reddening forehead. "Oye, you hit him in the back to force out what's stuck in his throat." 

"You choked on air," Griff snapped. "How else do I force out stupidity?"

"Are you two finished?" Serjeant snapped.

Tristan caught the murderous glare in Griff's eyes and nodded. The color faded from the big man's face as his breathing eased. Griff sat back down.

Serjeant watched them a few more seconds before passing the scroll down the table. "As I was saying, Brienne. You're under Griff's command but his name is not in our records. Your commission lists me as your commanding officer."

Brienne unrolled the scroll with trembling hands. It was no jape. Her name was on an official commission with the _Golden Company_. Proof that she was wanted and truly belonged. She ran her fingers over the seal and traced over the neat, careful script. Suddenly the parchment blurred before her and she realized tears were in her eyes. She breathed deeply and blinked hard to keep them back.

"Welcome to the _Golden Company_, Officer Tarth," Harry said. "You hold the distinction of being our first female officer."

"Aye, welcome Brienne," Tristan echoed. "I hope we'll soon get more officers like you."

"Yes," Griff agreed darkly. "More officers like Brienne and fewer men like you."

"Are you sure? You can barely handle the one you got," Tristan shot back. "Some men are not born to juggle."

Griff flushed deeply red. "While you were always intended to be a jester."

"I have more questions." Harry spoke quietly but with authority.

Griff and Tristan stopped glaring and smirking to pay attention to the exchange. The dragons, used to their barbs and sniping, began to wander along the table, closer to Harry and Serjeant. Then men both pressed their hands into the table, their postures stiff.

Brienne ignored Griff and Tristan to focus on Harry. "Yes, commander?"

"You said a saltwater priest directed you to Tyrosh. What could a priest of the Drowned God say to convince a woman who prays to the Seven to follow his advice?" Harry asked, looking down at his hands as Ardayn came closer.

Brienne carefully rolled up the scroll, using the time to gather her thoughts. If she revealed that secret, it might endanger the dragons. By the same token, hiding the truth could create a gap in the company's security, threatening all of them. She was an officer now. She couldn't keep secrets that might endanger her company.

"He said a great and terrible night would come soon and all, Gods and men, must work together to protect the people," she admitted softly. "He gave me five prophecies. The first part had already come true."

"A great and terrible night," Griff repeated, his eyes narrowing. He tugged Ardayn back, away from Harry and Serjeant. "Something is coming, requiring all to bind together to battle it. Perhaps something that might require dragons to fight it?"

"What were the prophecies?" Serjeant interrupted.

"He said he saw a lion roar and a wolf escape it's jaws. I took that to mean Lady Sansa's escape from the Lannisters at King's Landing. The second was a bird snatches up the wolf and dashes the wolf against icy, unyielding ground."

"A bird?" Serjeant repeated. "What does that mean?"

"Oye, Griff, amaze us with the book learning you're always doing," Tristan said. "What houses have birds on their shields?"

"Shields?" Brienne stared at him.

"Aye, if the lion is for the Lannisters and the wolf is for the Starks, then the bird has got to be a house, right?" Tristan watched Brienne's mouth round and grinned. "I figured out something you didn't? Why are you wasting your time on the pretty boy when you can have the smart one?"

"House Erenford and house Mallister in the Riverlands," Griff spat out. "House Arryn and house Corbray in Vale, house –"

"The Eyrie!" Brienne interrupted him. "That's where they must be! Lady Catelyn's sister was married to Jon Arryn, the former Hand to the King. I'll find them there."

"You may not," Griff cautioned. "The prophecy says the bird will dash the wolf. They won't be welcome there for long."

Brienne paled. "The third says the wolf struggles against blood-red figures. I've met them while travelling down to King's Landing. The flayed man is the sigil of the Boltons. They're terrible men. I must save Lady Catelyn's daughters!"

She jumped out of her chair, startling the dragons, who rushed back to her defense. Her hands clenched into fists as she shuddered at the memories of Locke, her almost-rape, Jaime's maiming and the bear pit. Her breath quickened into gasps.

"Brienne, calm yourself." Griff grabbed her arm. "What did the last part of the prophecy say?"

"A blue dragon who turns into a woman with blond hair and blue armor flies to the wolf. That must be me." She looked at Griff. "Where is my blue armor?"

"I sent it to Tarth with Podrick." Griff pulled on her arm. "Brienne, sit down. Calm yourself."

"No." Brienne shook off his hand. "How can I be calm? They're monsters. Those girls will not survive if they fall into the Bolton's hands."

The dragons began to squawk and puff up, clear signs they'd picked up on Brienne's distress. Harry and Serjeant leaned back in their seats as the dragons became more anxious.

"Tristan, clear the room," Griff ordered quietly. "Keep everyone out of here."

Harry and Serjeant rose carefully, taking advantage of Tristan's bulk to shield themselves from the dragons. Griff waited until the door shut behind them before he rose.

"Brienne, you're not thinking clearly. You cannot go back to Westeros," Griff argued.

"I must," she said simply. "Sansa and Arya Stark are in great danger. Most of their family has been killed. They have no home to shelter them, almost no one left to support them."

"Then how will you protect them, even if you manage to find them?" Griff demanded.

"They have one remaining brother, far in the North, near the Wall. He'll take care of them, if I can get the girls to him."

"The Wall? Do you mean all the way up to Castle Black?" Griff stalked to the far end of the room. "Think about all you're risking for two girls you don't even know are still alive."

"I was pledged to their mother." Brienne's jaw firmed. "I made a vow to Lady Catelyn that I would bring her daughters back to the North and ensure their safety."

"Catelyn Stark is dead. Your vow died with her."

"My vow continues until I have completed it." Brienne's hands curled into fists. "You convinced me you were a man of honor. You promised to protect me and the dragons. Will your vow end if I die? Will you turn your back on the five if I'm not with them?"

Griff stopped pacing to look at the dragons, who sat on the table, quietly observing as though following their conversation.

"No, of course not," he assured her. "I promised to keep all of you safe. I'll keep my word, no matter the cost."

"You know honor isn't something we have only when it's convenient, Griff." Brienne sat back down. "You believe being a king is a duty, not a right. Honor is a duty, too. It must be earned, not by comfort and convenience, but through sacrifice and commitment." Sudden tears stung her eyes. She looked down at the table to hide them. "I've already left them alone too long. You cannot ask me to give up on Arya and Sansa Stark."

Griff came closer to the table. "How long will you be gone?"

She was quiet for a long moment. "I don't know. I'll cross to Tarth to pick up my armor and Podrick. We'll travel directly to the Eyrie. If all goes well, I can take the girls to Castle Black and return to Tyrosh in two months, perhaps three if we encounter problems along the way." She put her hand on _Oathkeeper's_ pommel. "I expect there might be trouble."

"Three months." Griff sat down beside her, his own head down. He frowned at her death grip on her sword. His body suddenly became rigid. "Brienne?"

"Yes?"

"You said you carry Ned Stark's sword." His voice was strangely soft, as if he was trying to pick his words carefully. "If so, why does it have a Lannister pommel?"

Brienne hand tightened on the sword sheathed at her hip. "Tywin Lannister was given _Ice_ when Ned Stark was beheaded. He had it melted down into two new swords. I carry _Oathkeeper_ while the other portion was given to Joffery Baratheon."

Griff was quiet for a moment. "Tywin Lannister didn't give you this sword, did he?"

She forced herself to release the pommel. "No, Tywin gave it to Jaime Lannister. Ser Jaime gave it to me."

Griff's voice became suspiciously flat. "Jaime Lannister, the man you were to exchange for the Stark girls."

Brienne took a deep breath. "Yes."

"Jaime Lannister was the man who murdered my grandfather." Griff still spoke with that odd, flat tone, still looked down at the table.

Brienne closed her eyes, an ache twisting around her heart. Griff was not a weak person, easily swayed by lies. He knew his grandfather had been a cruel, twisted man, bloated by power and maddened by suspicions. Griff wouldn't take the truth personally; he'd use it to build a better future. She _believed_ in him.

"Griff, your grandfather became a terrible man." She spoke as gently as he did, careful not to allow her words to cause harm. "Aerys ordered his pyromancers to destroy King's Landing with wildfire. One million men, women and children would have died if Ser Jaime hadn't stopped him."

Griff shook his head, still not looking at Brienne. "Jaime Lannister stood by while his father's men sacked King's Landing and murdered my mother and sister."

Killing a madman for the greater good was something Griff could understand. Killing a helpless woman and an innocent child; his own mother and sister; he could not. Brienne's heart ached for him. The truth was painful but lies would bring him no comfort.

She put her hand on his arm. "Ser Jaime didn't know that would happen. He wasn't responsible for their deaths."

Griff looked down at her hand. "Jaime Lannister is said to be the father of his sister's children."

Brienne nodded. "Yes, he is."

"Jaime Lannister is known, even in Essos, as a man without honor, an oath breaker. Yet you carry his sword and speak of him with such -" Griff broke off.

Brienne removed her hand and finally looked at Griff. His blue eyes had darkened to black; his jaw was tightly clenched and his hand was convulsively tightening on then releasing the pommel of _Firestorm_.

"With such what?" she asked softly.

"With such admiration," Griff hissed. He turned to her. "Tell me honestly, Brienne. Are you in love with the Kingslayer?"

Brienne took a deep breath, so sharp it was a physical ache in her chest. She had to look away from Griff. Her blood pounded, the hated blush darkened her cheeks, even as a part of her closed down, to protect herself from the wash of emotions that threatened to drown her. He was just asking her for words. Words were wind, uttering them shouldn't cause so much fear, shouldn't make her body stiffen so much her muscles cramped from the pressure.

"What is love?" she asked quietly. "For me, it's the connection I feel for someone who gives me respect, validation and comfort; who protects me even when it's not easy; who rescues me when I cannot rescue myself; who makes sacrifices to ensure I survive. Someone I trust with my life. How can I not love a man who does those things for me?"

Her words hung heavily in the air, so brutally honest she feared suffocating under them. She had survived far more painful, even life-threatening, injuries but never had she left herself so open to the attack. She looked at him then, chin raised, prepared for whatever words, accusations or insults, he'd throw at her.

There were none. Griff was quiet for a long moment, eyes dilatated to almost black, considering what she has said. Even the dragons were quiet, as if they were also waiting for Griff's response. Finally, he took a deep breath.

"Did Jaime Lannister do that for you?"

"He did." Brienne began to stroke Gallan, its emerging scales rough and reassuring under her hand. "We were captured while on the way to King's Landing. The men wanted to rape me but Ser Jaime convinced them my father would pay handsomely for my safe return. Until then he'd been my prisoner but he still protected me. That was when he lost his hand. They tortured him when they couldn't torture me."

The other dragons came closer, sensing her distress. Allwyn hopped into her lap while Catren sidled alongside Gallan, cleverly inserting itself under Brienne's hand to be stroked. Brienne smiled at the dragon's antics. Ardayn and Serdun chirped comfortingly. Brienne shifted Catren and Gallan to Griff so she could pull her most dedicated guards closer.

"He gave up his hand to protect you." Griff's voice had gone back to having no inflection as he pulled the dragons to him. "He saved you from rape."

"He did more than that." She paused as Allwyn flapped then settled into her lap. "Our captors took us to their lord, who released Ser Jaime but kept me. Once Ser Jaime realized they didn't intend to send me to my father, he raced back to save me from a bear fight."

"A bear fight?" Griff's head jerked up. "Why were you fighting a bear?"

"It wasn't by choice. Our captors threw me into a pit with a live bear. Ser Jaime came back and jumped into the pit. He refused to leave until they pulled me out first. I wouldn't be alive today if Ser Jaime hadn't come back for me." She rested her hands on Ardayn and Serdun, their warmth an anchor against the chilling memories. "The dragons would not be here today if Ser Jaime had not saved me."

Griff shook his head, absorbing the new information. "The man who killed a king who thought he'd be reborn as a dragon saved a woman who truly brought dragons into the world."

Kinvara's words about the fate of _Widow's Wail_, the other part of Ned Stark's _Ice_, rang in Brienne's mind.

"_Soon that part will be with Joffery's true father, the __Kingslayer__, Jamie Lannister. This is also as intended. The Lord guides us all."_

"It was meant to be, wasn't it?" Brienne sighed, heavy pressure making her heart ache. "You, I, Ser Jaime, the Mad King and the dragons are all linked. There is a thread that connects us all, isn't there?"

Griff nodded. "Man cannot understand the will of the Gods. He can only have faith and follow the path they lay before him."

Her eyes widened. "You said that before, when I first brought the dragons to you."

"Because it's true." Griff sighed. "Aerys was a false dragon who brought pain and destruction. You are a true dragon who has brought light to the world."

Brienne paled. "That's what Kinvara said to me."

"Who?"

"The Red Priestess who directed me to the Disputed Lands." Brienne rested her hands on Allwyn snuggled in her lap. "She called me the light in the darkness."

"She was right." Griff nodded. "I knew it the moment I met you. That was why I helped you, the first time we met on the dock. I could see the light inside you. It glowed out of your eyes. I knew there was something special about you, even then."

Brienne looked at him. She studied his calm features and saw only truth shining in his deep blue eyes. The pressure in her heart increased. He meant it. He truly believed she had a place in the kingdom he wanted to create. She, Brienne of Tarth, the woman who had always been ridiculed for believing in knighthood and honor, _belonged _in Griff's new world order.

Still, a lifetime of conditioning could not be overcome in a moment. "I'm not a dragon. The ties that gave me dragon's blood are not pure."

"Bloodlines can be too pure, Brienne," Griff insisted. "They say every time a Targaryen is born; the gods toss a coin and the world holds its breath. We have been spared that madness. The only way to avoid such weakness is to draw in other bloodlines."

Brienne thought about his words. "Daenerys Targaryen is pure blooded."

"So far, she's shown mercy." Griff paused. "There are stories of her crucifying and burning her enemies but she also liberated three slave cities, freeing the oppressed people."

"Will she stay in Essos or do you think she'll cross to Westeros?"

"I don't know," he admitted. "My plan was to visit the slave cities after we'd settled in Valyria. Perhaps meet with the Dragon Queen to determine if we could join forces."

"Join forces! Griff, you cannot go near her. You're a threat to her claim to the Iron Throne." Brienne caught his arm. "Promise me you will not meet with her."

"I don't have to promise. You want to go back to Westeros. I need to work out a plan to protect you and the dragons while we're there." Griff watched Catren climb his arm to perch on his shoulder. "Westeros is dangerous for them, especially while they're so young."

The fierce pain in her heart nearly took her breath away. "We already have a plan. You're taking them to Valyria."

Griff froze. "You don't want to keep them with you?"

"Of course, I want to." Brienne blinked hard to hold back tears. "But I can't. I have to find two frightened girls, convince them I mean them no harm and take them through snow and hostile lands to reunite them with their brother. I can't protect them and the dragons at the same time."

Griff was quiet for a long moment. "The dragons think of you as their mother. How can they be separated from you for three months?"

"They come to you as they come to me," Brienne nodded to Catren on his shoulder and Gallan under his hand. "They listen to you as they listen to me. If they consider me their mother, who do you think you are to them?"

Griff closed his eyes but his mouth twisted, revealing how hard her words had hit him. "Fine, I'll keep them safe until you return to us." He opened his eyes. "When do you want to leave?"

She looked away. "I should leave as soon as possible."

"Wait until tomorrow at least, at first light. Let us have a little more time." His voice was thick, as though a heavy weight pressed upon his throat. "Give us one more night."

The dragons gathered closer to her, perhaps sensing their time together would soon end. Allwyn burrowed deeper in her lap, its sharp little claws digging in, as if to hold Brienne in place. Brienne knew she couldn't stay. The dragons were safe. Griff would keep them safe. No one but she would keep Catelyn Stark's daughters safe. She would leave in the morning but she would spend one more night here, gathering memories to warm her through the cold nights ahead.

"Alright." She had to swallow to clear her own throat. "One more night."

Even as she uttered the words, she wished she could call them back. Not because she didn't want the night but because she didn't want the dawn. Tomorrow would bring pain, heartbreak and, when she was far enough away from Tyrosh, tears.

Honor was earned by commitment and sacrifice. She had given Lady Catelyn her word and she would keep it. She wasn't only the Gods' warrior or a member of the _Golden Company_. She was also a knight. Through no one in Westeros would give her the credit, she knew it in her heart.

She knew she was a knight of the Seven Kingdoms.

Translation:

Ardayn, māzigon naejot issa (Ardayn, come to me)

**Author's Notes:**

The show stole my thunder with knighting Brienne but, sadly, that's all they got right for our favorite female warrior. Rest assured I have much grander plans for the Lady of Tarth. Her future has only started to unfold.

Some final points to ponder:

Do you think Brienne made a good decision to leave the dragons with Griff?

What do you think of Griff's plan to take the dragons to Valyria?

Hmm…what other characters are also supposed to be in Valyria at the same time?


	13. Dragonstone Keeper

**THE KEEPER**

Chapter 13 – Dragonstone Keeper

Four months later…

"My Lady, Ser, I can hardly believe all you went through while in Essos," Podrick looked at her with concern, perhaps searching for lasting effects of her time East.

He had been stoic and steadfast since she'd shown up in Tarth nearly four months earlier. Calmly accepting her refusal to talk about her time in Essos, Podrick had prepared for their journey north. Brienne had spared the evening to spend with her father then they'd left at first light to the Eyrie in their search for the Stark girls.

"Podrick, I'm sorry I kept all this from you until now," Brienne said quietly.

She had wanted to tell him her secret many times over the past few months but hadn't. She told herself it was because she had to stay focused on the search for the Stark girls, or because she didn't want to risk exposing the dragons. Those were her excuses. She just hadn't wanted to face the pain of her separation, preferring to bury it in duty and honor.

But now that duty had ended. Sansa had charged her with one more task on their way back to Tarth. Her insides tightened and she took a deep breath of the damp, salty air to ease the tension. In mere days, they would be back in Tyrosh, back with the _Golden Company_ and almost reunited with Griff and her dragons. The ache inside of her twisted and tightened.

"I understand, my Lady, Ser," Podrick nodded, head lowered, deep in thought. "The only way to keep a secret is to forget you know it and never reveal it to anyone."

"I couldn't forget, Podrick," Brienne admitted. "It was with me every day, every moment, but I could ignore it, focus on the goal before me."

Brienne had used the long, quiet row boat ride from the mainland to tell Podrick about her time in the Disputed Lands and about the dragons. It seemed fitting to reveal the dragons while riding out to Dragonstone Island. It was also quiet and private. They had not seen a single person all morning. No doubt the dragon sightings had discouraged frequent visitors.

"But you've told me now." Podrick stretched out his arms, working out the kinks from his turn at rowing. "Does that mean we're going back to Essos?"

"Lady Sansa and Lady Arya are safe at Winterfell, now that the Boltons and their men have been defeated. They have many good men to protect them." Brienne rowed their small boat with even strokes, watching the imposing castle of Dragonstone grow larger and larger before them.

Prodrick grinned, drawing her attention. "I don't think they need good men. Lady Arya fought you to a draw when you two sparred in the training field."

"She did indeed," Brienne agreed.

The tiny warrior had surprised her with her speed, agility and cunning. What Arya Stark lacked in height, she made up for with determination.

"I didn't say anything at the time but she sword fights like Griff does, doesn't she?" Podrick noted.

Brienne nodded. "The water dance style is popular in Braavos. They need to be quick and light since they cannot wear heavy armor in the heat."

Podrick grinned. "I'm looking forward to learning it. It will be a good compliment to the training you're giving me."

Brienne looked at Dragonstone looming closer and closer. The island and the castle were both dark and imposing but she could easily imagine the five little dragons here, dropping from the high cliffs, fishing in the Narrow Sea, flying over the open waters. But they wouldn't be safe here, not while they were so young. Dragonstone was too close to the mainland and along the sea route to King's Landing. Secrecy was their greatest protection. The world would go to war for them if they were discovered.

"My Lady, Ser?" Podrick broke into her thoughts. "I hope I didn't offend you. Your instructions have been most helpful."

"No, Podrick, you didn't offend me." She smiled at him. "You have been my loyal companion all these months. You've endured bitter cold, disappointment and battles with me. Now I plan to drag you to a foreign land. Are you sure you want to leave Westeros?"

He didn't hesitate. "My place is at your side, my Lady, Ser."

"We may not return for several years. The five are far too young to be exposed to the world." She nodded to Dragonstone. "Once we deliver this information to King Jon, we'll go on directly to Tarth, then Tyrosh."

"What about the Night King and the army of the dead?" Podrick turned to also look at the castle. "King Jon said they're the greatest threat the realm has ever known. Won't they need our help? What about the five? Can't they help?"

"The five are only seven months old. They cannot fight this war, not yet." Her hands clenched on the oars at the thought of the small dragons forced into war. "The Wall has held the Night King's forces back for centuries. Perhaps the five will play a part, but not anytime soon. Now that I've fulfilled my oath to Lady Catelyn, I must go back to help protect them."

"I'm glad," Podrick turned back to face her. "You were so much happier in Essos."

She stared at him. "You saw me for less than a fortnight in Essos. How could you say I was happier?"

"You belonged," he said simply. "I was there to see you after that first pirate battle, when you led the _Golden Company_ to victory. The sun didn't glow as brightly as you did, my Lady, Ser."

She could only look at him. Had she been so obvious? Was she unhappy in Westeros, where her height and strength made her stand out so much? She had never considered the fault might be in those who viewed her as different, rather than in _being _different.

Podrick smiled but it faded quickly. "Then, when you came back to Tarth, I could see something had changed in you. You had a warmth and an energy that has slowly frozen the longer we're here. I didn't realize how much being in Westeros demoralized you until you came back from Tyrosh."

She frowned at him. "I'm not demoralized, I'm determined. I've honored my vow to Lady Catelyn. I stayed with Lady Sansa until she was in safe hands. There was much cause for worry, so many threats to the Starks; Littlefinger, the Boltons, Stannis Baratheon, the red woman and…" she trailed off.

"And Ser Jaime?" Podrick finished for her. "Is he a threat as well? I have never seen you as sad or as resigned as you were when we left the siege at Riverrun."

Bienne looked away, her arms rowing methodically, her mind cast back to her meeting with Jaime. The way he had looked at her, the way her insides had tightened at their final words.

"_Honor compels me to fight for Sansa's kin… to fight you."_

_She had seen how hard he had to swallow to force out the words. "Let's hope it doesn't come to that."_

"My Lady, Ser, I'm sorry. I didn't mean to ask such a personal question. I know you and Ser Jaime are…" Podrick hesitated, "close."

Close. Was such a small word adequate to explain the myriad of emotions she'd felt seeing Jaime again? To be in the same space as him, soak in his chiseled features, the age and strain cutting new lines in his face, without revealing the true challenges she'd faced? Did it describe her tangled emotions when she's tried to return _Oathkeeper_ and he'd refused to take it? Was it enough to nurture the hope that what they didn't say still communicated to the other?

"_It's yours. It will always be yours."_

"I tried to return _Oathkeeper _to him since my purpose for having it was completed." She glanced down at the sword's pommel. "He refused to accept it. And…"

"And?" Podrick prodded gently.

"He was carrying _Widow's Wail_."

"_Widow's Wail_, my Lady, Ser?"

"Do you remember the Red Priestess in Tyrosh? She told us that the other part of Ned Stark's greatsword _Ice_ would soon be with Joffery's father?" Brienne reminded him.

Podrick nodded. "Yes, she said it was intended. That the Lord of Light needed Ser Jaime to carry that sword."

Brienne nodded. "He has it now."

Podrick frowned. "Another puzzle piece fitted in place?"

"Yes, another puzzle piece. That's my greatest worry, Podrick," She looked around, at the vast expanse of water to their left and the mainland far in the distance to the right. "We are pieces in a puzzle I don't understand. You and I are a part of it, Ser Jaime is a part of it, the five are a part and who knows who else. I feel so helpless not knowing what's coming."

"We know some things," Podrick reminder her. "We know Cersei Lannister has allied with Euron Greyjoy and has hired the _Golden Company_."

"True," she agreed. "We'll give this information to King Jon and let him decide how to use it. But remember, do not say a word about our time with the company. Any hint that could link us to them might endanger the five or the men protecting them."

"I won't say anything," Podrick promised. "In truth, I think it might be good to be away from Westeros right now. Every piece of information we get is more frightening than the last."

"Yes, it is," Brienne agreed. "Daenerys Targaryen destroyed half of the crown's army on the Gold Road, Cersei Lannister is barely holding the starving masses in King's Landing, the North is on the verge of secession, Dorne is building up their forces, the Night King is building the army of the dead and now Cersei has hired the _Golden Company_."

"The _Golden Company_ is known for never breaking their contract. There motto is _our word is as good as _gold. Won't it destroy their reputation to break their contract with Cersei?" Podrick asked.

Brienne smiled briefly. "Harry Strickland is skilled at wording contracts in the company's favor. That's why he's the commander instead of one of the military leaders. Harry signed a contract with King's Landing to commit the company to fight for the crown and true ruler of Westeros. Cersei Lannister signed and placed her seal on the contract but it doesn't specify that she is the true ruler."

Podrick blinked. "You're saying the company works for the crown and not for Cersei? They'll fight for whoever sits on the Iron Throne?"

"Exactly. King Jon may find that information very useful."

"We knew the crown's armies had been badly damaged by the dragon attack. It's worse than we thought if she has to buy another army." Podrick suddenly stiffened and looked around.

"She had already contracted with the company before the Gold Road attack. I think she planned to use the company to take back the lands the Dragon Queen has seized. The dragon attack was an event she didn't anticipate and could not fight. No one can," Brienne agreed. She'd seen the big dragon in action before. There was no possibility the Lannister men could have survived against it. "No one can win against a fully-grown dragon."

Podrick went white. "I wish you hadn't said that."

"Why? What's wrong?" She twisted to look around.

Podrick looked up. High up in the sky, so high they appeared to be smaller than birds, were three dragons. Brienne drew in her breath when the dragons streaked down from the sky. They roared with a fury that caused the water around them to ripple. Ahead of them, a group of armed men appeared on the beach near the landing site.

"My Lady, I hope the dragon remembers you fondly." Podrick's voice broke. "Otherwise, we may be in trouble."

The dragons came closer. The big dragon was noticeably larger than the other two. Brienne recalled what Griff has said.

"_The kings feared they couldn't control the dragons so they suppressed them, causing the dragons born to become smaller and weaker."_

Had Daenerys Targaryen locked up the smaller dragons? Was that why the big dragon had been alone when she'd seen it in Essos? Did the Dragon Queen fear her own dragons?

Podrick huddled in his seat, trying to make himself a smaller target. The tide helped pull in their little boat to the water's edge, where they were immediately surrounded by a dozen Dothraki fighters wielding large, curved blades. The two smaller dragons landed on the sharp cliffs above them while the big dragon came down to the beach. The dragons roared again, full-throated and dominant.

Podrick squeaked and tried to make himself smaller. The Dothraki didn't seem bothered by the dragons, gesturing for Brienne and Podrick to get out of the boat. They moved slowly, conscious of the dragons observing them. The guards pulled Brienne out as easily as if she were a delicate lady and Podrick with even less effort. The guards dropped them to the wet sand and circled them, weapons drawn.

The large dragon roared again. Podrick curled into a ball and covered his head with his hands.

Brienne wasn't sure what to do. The dragon had saved her life many times, had saved the five, had _birthed_ the five. But she had left the little dragons with Griff. She knew from the carefully worded scrolls Griff sent that the big dragon had been to Valyria. Was it angry that she had seemingly turned away from her duty to the five? The dragon made a sound, more of a huff than a roar but remained calm. Brienne took a deep breath.

"Kirimvose." She bowed deeply, lowering her head, exposing the vulnerable nape of her neck.

A long moment passed. Brienne looked up but remained in the deep bow. The dragon released a stream of warm air through its nostrils. The bloodriders were quiet, observing their interaction. Brienne straightened slowly. The dragon unfurled its wings and roared to the sky. The draft from its takeoff blew her hair straight back but Brienne did her best to hold her ground in the shifting wet sand.

The other dragons also took off and followed the big dragon. Brienne reached down to help Podrick to his feet.

"What… what did you say to it, my Lady, Ser?" Podrick was still sickly white but he stumbled forward when the guards prodded him.

"I thanked it." Brienne fell in line behind Podrick, the guards surrounding them as they crossed the sand to the path leading to the castle.

"How do you plan to explain this to the Dragon Queen?" Podrick asked.

"I'll tell her the truth," Brienne muttered. "Well, some of it."

"You stand before Daenerys Stormborn of House Targaryen, the First of her Name, Rightful Queen of Westeros, Rightful Queen of the Andals and the First Men, Protector of the Seven Kingdoms, Mother of Dragons, Khaleesi of the Great Grass Sea, the Unburnt, the Breaker of Chains." The lovely dark-skinned girl spoke with such conviction, her clear voice rang throughout in the hall.

Brienne and Podrick remained at the back of the room while a guard whispered to the tiny, pale woman seated on the throne. The room was large, lit with torches and ringed with both Unsullied and Dothraki guards. The throne was placed at the top of the steps, the small woman dwarfed by its commanding size.

"You may approach," the Queen consented graciously.

Brienne glanced at Podrick then stepped forward. Up close, Daenerys Targaryen was even more beautiful than she'd been described. She was tiny and delicate, with thick, waist-long silver-blonde hair, enormous indigo eyes and perfect placed features that mimicked Griff's startling beauty. Brienne had only seen Griff with blue hair, which made his eyes darken almost to black. The silver-blond hair would probably make his eyes as almost purple as the Dragon Queen's.

"My guards tell me Drogon came to greet you," Daenerys looked them up and down. "Yet you stand before me, unharmed. Most curious."

Light, rapid footsteps distracted Brienne before she could speak. She turned to watch Tyrion Lannister enter and hurry over.

"My apologies, my Queen," Tyrion began then stopped. "Lady Brienne, why are you here?"

"I'm not sure," Daenerys said drily. "She has not spoken."

Brienne cleared her throat. "My apologies, your Grace. I am Brienne of Tarth and this is my squire, Podrick Payne. I've been sent by Lady Sansa Stark of Winterfell, with an urgent message for her brother, King Jon, the King in the North."

"He is here," Daenerys admitted. "I've given him permission to mine dragonglass. He tells me it is vital for a potential battle against the army of the dead, I believe he called it."

Some of the tension Brienne had felt eased out of her. "Thank you, your Grace. The dragonglass will be a powerful weapon in the upcoming battle."

"I take it Lady Sansa is well?" Tyrion asked quietly.

"She is now," Brienne confirmed.

"Lord Tyrion, how do you know Lady Brienne?" Daenerys asked.

"She was in King's Landing before my nephew, Joffery, was poisoned." Tyrion looked past Brienne to Podrick. "Hello, Podrick, it's good to see you again. I hope Lady Brienne has been treating you well."

Podrick grinned and nodded. "Thank you, Lord Tyrion. She's the most kind and honorable person I've ever met. I'm proud to be her squire."

"Now that we have the polite greetings out of the way, what is the urgent message?" Daenerys asked.

"It's information for King Jon, your Grace. I must present it to him and no other," Brienne insisted.

Daenerys frowned then turned to the woman beside her. "Missandei, have _Lord_ Jon brought here."

The young queen put heavy emphasis on addressing Jon by the incorrect title. Brienne glanced at Tyrion. The Hand of the Queen frowned but did not contradict his queen.

"Yes, your Grace." Missandei left the room with quick, quiet steps.

Daenerys looked back to Brienne. "Now, Lady Brienne, while we wait, perhaps you can tell me how you know Drogon."

Tyrion gave a visible start. "She does?"

Brienne looked from one to the other. "I'm sorry, your Grace. I don't know Drogon. Is he one of your guards?"

Daenerys smiled. "Drogon is the largest of my three dragons. My guards say he landed on the beach to greet you. You even spoke to him."

This would be tricky. Brienne had gotten better at concealment since returning from Tyrosh but lying was far harder than evasion. She was no good at lying.

"Yes, your Grace. My High Valyrian is extremely limited. The dragon, Drogon, didn't attack me or burn me. I could only thank him for that mercy."

Daenerys frowned again, clearly unsatisfied with her response. Missandei returned with Jon, Davos and another man before Daenerys could question Brienne any further.

"Brienne, what's wrong?" Jon hurried over to her. "Is Sansa well?"

"Yes, your Grace." Brienne smiled, happy to give him good news. "Your sisters are both well."

"Both?" The mixture of hope and confusion on Jon's face hurt to see.

"Yes, both," Brienne confirmed. "Lady Arya has returned, as has your brother, Bran. The wolves are regathering, your Grace."

For a second, all expression left Jon's face. Then he closed his eyes and lowered his head. "Bran, Arya. They're back and they're safe." Jon looked up, his eyes suspiciously bright. "Thank you, Brienne. I'm grateful you came all this way to give me such wonderful news."

"I have more news, your Grace, that may not be such glad tidings." Brienne reached inside her jacket for the scroll. "This came for Ser Davos. Lady Sansa deemed it so important that she sent us here to deliver it."

"For me?" Davos came to them. "What could be so important for me?"

This had been the hardest part. Griff had informed her upon learning of their new commission. They could be in Westeros, close enough to act when needed, all while hiding in plain sight. The _Golden Company_ could easily take King's Landing anytime Griff deemed it appropriate, once they were within the city walls. Their army would tip any battle but nothing should connect the company to Griff or the dragons. They had to decide on the best way to pass along the necessary information without involving Brienne or the secrets they protected.

"Do you know Tycho Nestoris, Ser Davos?" Brienne asked quietly.

Davos frowned then unwrapped the scroll. "Yes, he represents the Iron Bank of Braavos. Does he want -" Davos broke off as he read the message.

"Well, what does he say?" Jon asked.

"An army of gold longs to be home. It works for a queen but prefers a dream." Davos looked up from the scroll. "What does that mean?"

"May I see that?" Tyrion held out his hand.

Davos handed over the paper as the other man and Daenerys came to join them. Missandei stayed further back but still close enough to hear them. Tyrion studied the seal on the scroll.

"This is Nestoris's seal and handwriting," he confirmed. "I recognize it from when I was the Master of Coins in King's Landing."

"The army of gold is already home," Davos said. "The Iron Bank has the largest supply of gold in the known world. Do they expect me to repay an outstanding loan?"

Brienne closed her eyes. She had already brought them the message. Did she now have to help them understand it? Could she guide them without revealing her true connection to the _Golden Company_?

"That is not the army of gold," the other man said quietly. "I believe he is referring to the _Golden Company_."

Daenerys bent down to read the scroll over her Hand's shoulder. She was so tiny she didn't have to bend very far. She straightened to address the man.

"Ser Jorah, you were a member of the _Golden Company_," she said. "Do you understand what this message means?"

Brienne stiffened. Did Ser Jorah know Griff? Did Daenerys already know there was a rival with a better claim to the Iron Throne currently amassing armies and allies?

"Aye, Khaleesi, a lifetime ago, long before I came into your service." Jorah looked at Tyrion. "We met a group of their men while I was escorting Lord Tyrion through the ruins of Valyria."

"Escorting," Tyrion snorted. "You mean kidnapping."

"_I_ was escorting you. The pirates we met kidnapped us both." Jorah glared at Tyrion. "You were so sick from lack of drink you didn't know the sky from the ground. You were imagining pink elephants and ice spiders."

"I saw stone men. They were real." Tyrion put his hand to the back of his head. "I still get pains from where they hit me."

"You were out of your senses for days after," Jorah said. "If the _Golden Company_ hadn't saved us, we would have died at the hands of those stone men."

Tyrion frowned. "So, I didn't really see Rhaegar fighting on the cliffs above us?"

It took all of Brienne's self-control not to react. She glanced over at Podrick. Her squire had his head down, looking meek and submissive, but also cleverly hiding his expression. She looked at the others to gauge their reactions. They were all looking at Tyrion with blank confusion.

"My brother has been dead for longer than I've been alive, Lord Tyrion." Daenerys's voice was cold. "You must have been very sick indeed."

"I was also injured, your Grace." Tyrion defended himself. "Why else would I have pictured Rhaegar as a young man? Although I don't know why I imagined him with blue hair."

"Are you in your cups now, Lord Tyrion?" Daenerys demanded.

"No, my Queen," he responded. "I am quite sober. Ser Jorah, what do you think this means?"

"The _Golden Company_ took us through the ruins of Valyria while Lord Tyrion recovered. Many of the men are descendants of exiled Westerosi lords. They spoke of regaining their lost lands and titles," Jorah paused. "Once a Targaryen led them back to Westeros."

Daenerys's eyes widened. "Ser Jorah, how many men are in the _Golden Company_?"

"At last count? I would estimate ten thousand soldiers with ten thousand squires who are almost good enough to be officers."

"Will they fight for me?" Daenerys demanded.

Jorah frowned for a moment. "I believe they will fight for home."

Daenerys nodded. "Then I will welcome them and restore their lost heritages when they help me take back the Iron Throne."

Brienne clenched her jaw. Why couldn't any of these people see beyond the end of their noses? Didn't they understand there were greater forces at work than their own desires for crowns and thrones? All they wanted was to conquer. Did any of them think of the people and the lands that would be destroyed by their wars? She looked over at Jon, who was frowning at them.

"Your Grace." Brienne turned to Jon. "There is a second line to that message. Perhaps that is of importance, as well?"

Jon nodded. "Aye, it is. Brienne is right. The message says the army is already working for a queen. If that isn't you, then who is it?"

"Cersei," Daenerys spat out. "She is the only other queen. Yara Greyjoy was captured, perhaps killed, when Euron ambushed the Iron Fleet."

"That means my sister doesn't have the forces to counter-attack you at this time," Tyrion noted. "Her army has been decimated and the _Golden Company_ is not yet here."

"What is there to counter-attack?" Daenerys snapped. "We have already lost the Iron Fleet and Highgarden. Casterly Rock is of little value. Dorne has backed off from our alliance without Ellaria Sands. Now your sister is fortifying her forces with an outside army."

"Is that all you can think of?" Jon demanded. "Lost castles, armies and alliances? I've already told you the true threat is north of the Wall. The army of the dead grows by the day. I showed you the drawings in the caves. We must put aside our petty squabbles and band together to fight for the living. That is the only war that matters."

Daenerys turned to him. "If that is the only war that matters to you, then you should be eager to bend the knee to a queen who can so easily win your war."

"Easily?" Jon didn't try to keep the incredulity out of his voice.

Daenerys stepped closer to him. "You seem to have forgotten I have three very large dragons. I've been advised not to take them directly to the Red Keep and burn Cersei where she stands."

Tyrion sighed, as if this was common argument. "You do not want to be the Queen of the Ashes, your Grace. If your dragons fired on King's Landing, or even just the Red Keep, hundreds would die in the destruction. You would be as hated as my sister. Worse, you would also be seen as a foreign invader. Cersei maybe evil, but she is an evil they know."

"But you have no complaint if I destroy this so-called Night King?" Daenerys demanded. "I can show the people of the North I'm a capable queen. I'll slay their demon and protect their lands."

"It will help," Tyrion agreed. "The North will see you came to their aid in their time of need."

Daenerys nodded. "So then, I fly my dragons north of the Wall, reduce this Night King's army to water, the way I reduced Cersei's army to ashes."

Jon and Davos exchanged glances.

"It won't be that easy, your Grace," Jon cautioned.

Daenerys frowned. "Do not tell me a creature made of ice can withstand dragonfire."

"We don't know what will or will not kill the Night King," Jon explained quietly. "We know its army can be destroyed by fire, dragonglass and Valyrian steel. We should take a team north of the wall to gather more information."

"I don't need information," Daenerys snapped. "I have dragons. Even if I don't destroy this king, I'll destroy his armies so he, like Cersei, will be forced to start anew. Then you will be at my side when we go to King's Landing, clear proof the North supports their true queen. I will not be seen as a foreign invader if half of Westeros supports my claim."

"Half?" Jon repeated.

"The Riverlands, Stormlands, Westerlands and the Reach have no leaders and Dorne will not commit. Cersei only holds King's Landing and has a single ally with Euron Greyjoy," Tyrion pointed out. "You hold the North while Littlefinger holds the Vale. It would be a simple matter for the North to take the Riverlands. And from there, King's Landing."

"Yes," Daenerys nodded in agreement. "Since I should not simply fly in and seize my throne, I will walk through the front gates with the northern armies at my back."

Brienne gritted her teeth to keep from speaking out. Just when Daenerys seemed to grasp the enormity of what laid beyond the wall, she reverted back to conquest. King Jon was trying to focus on the people while the Dragon Queen only saw the Night King as a stepping stone to the Iron Throne. Her Hand was no better. Tyrion only channeled her ambitions when he should be helping her control them.

"And what of the North?" Jon demanded. "We have fought too hard, sacrificed too much to be held under the thumb of another autocratic ruler."

"Our queen is not an autocratic ruler," Missandei interjected quietly. She walked closer to the group. "She is the kindest and most just person I know. Before she freed me, I'd lived almost my entire life under the thumb, or rather the fist and lash, of truly vicious rulers."

There was silence as everyone turned to her. Missandei came to Daenerys's side and took her queen's hand in both of hers. Brienne stared at their joined hands. She had never seen an advisor, no matter how well-favored, boldly touch a royal without invitation.

"I know what it is to have no voice, no control and even no food or water if my master wished it." Missandei's voice broke and her hands tightened visibly.

Daenerys covered Missandei's hand with her free hand, rubbing comfortingly. "Missandei," she said gently, "you don't have to defend me."

"But I wish to and I will." Missandei's voice suddenly strengthened. "I am free to do so and I will have my say." Her deep brown eyes flashed with conviction, bright with unshed tears. "Daenerys Stormborn has never raised a hand against the powerless, has never taken from those who had nothing, has never attempted to enslave or enforce her will. She has earned her title as the Breaker of Chains and my trust by protecting those who had no one else to protect them."

Missandei looked directly at Jon. "I serve my queen of my own _free_ will, because she is a good and generous person. She is no tyrant."

Daenerys stopped rubbing Missandei's hand and grasped her arm, drawing the other woman closer. Brienne blinked. Rarely has she seen a queen so tactile with her subjects or even her ladies. Cersei probably wouldn't know how to. Only Queen Margaery, gracious and well-loved, had offered her hand to the people who served her. Daenerys comforted her people, held them as though they were dear to her. Perhaps they were.

The men around them looked at the floor and shuffled uncomfortably, unused to such emotional displays. Brienne frowned at them. Were they so hardened that genuine emotion was something they feared or didn't understand? How could they hope to rule Westeros if they didn't see their people's pain and work to alleviate their sufferings?

Finally, Davos cleared his throat. "Be that as it may, you're making this too simple, your Grace. This creature, the Night King, is thousands of years old. It's made of ice and magic, not flesh and blood."

Daenerys whispered something to Missandei. Her advisor nodded and stepped back, still part of their circle but allowing her queen to regain their attention.

"Ser Davos, my dragons are made of fire and magic," Daenerys pointed out. "They may not be old but they are powerful." She turned to Jon. "Lord Jon, bend the knee to me and I will destroy your enemy. In turn, you will help me destroy mine."

"And if you don't?" Jon challenged. "If you go north of the Wall and are unable to defeat the Night King? Then what? We'll be right back where we are now. We need to parlay with Cersei, bring in her army, the Iron Fleet and even the _Golden Company_, whichever queen they serve."

The two glared at each other. Jorah and Davos exchanged concerned glances but said nothing. Podrick looked to Brienne for direction. She remained quiet, observing the two rulers. Could they find a compromise? How would that compromise affect Griff and the _Golden Company_? What was her next step if they didn't come together?

"What if we do both?" Tyrion suggested. "Our queen goes north with Jon, destroys this army or observes this army, if it cannot be fully destroyed."

Jon gave him a frustrated glare. Tyrion held up both hands in a placating gesture.

"While you are up North, I will go to King's Landing to set up a parlay with my sister."

Daenerys now glared at him. "How will you do so? She'll have you killed on sight."

"I'll smuggle him in, your Grace," Davos offered. He looked at Tyrion. "But if the Gold Cloaks were to recognize you, I'm warning you. I'm not a fighter."

"And then what?" Daenerys demanded. "Will Cersei welcome the brother who murdered their father into her chambers? Will she listen to what you have to say? I think not."

"The only one she listens to is Jaime," Tyrion sighed. "He might listen to me."

Brienne stiffened and glanced over at Podrick. Her squire had lowered his head again, hiding his expression. Jaime had a role in the Gods' plans. He now carried _Widow's Wail_, a weapon so important, the Lord of Light had shown it to his High Priestess. Would Jaime join their cause? What was his role in the events to come?

"Will your brother talk to you?" Jon demanded, drawing Brienne back to their conversation.

Tyrion nodded. "He might. I think I know a way to at least meet with him."

"I don't agree with this," Daenerys snapped. "I won't allow it. You're considered a traitor to your family. I won't risk losing my Hand to my enemies."

"My Queen, you must meet with her in either case," he insisted. "You will inform Cersei you know how weak her forces are and that you already hold the North. She will see the size of your armies, if not, my brother will. He will not allow his men to fight a battle against an army four times their size."

Daenerys smiled, clearly liking his plan. Jon shifted from foot to foot. Tyrion nodded to him.

"If, on the other hand, you're unable to defeat this Night King." Daenerys sniffed but Tyrion continued. "You'll inform Cersei of the greater threat of this Night King, provide her with proof of how dangerous he is. She believes he's just a story created by wet nurses to frighten children. Either way, you'll go into the parlay in a stronger position than you are now."

"My position is only stronger if I do hold the North," Daenerys pointed it. She turned to Jon. "Will you join me, King Jon? Will you bend the knee if I destroy this Night King for the North? As I asked you in the caves, isn't the survival of your people worth your pride?"

Jon paused for a long moment, then looked at Davos. Davos sighed heavily and dropped his head. Jon looked to Brienne. She tried to keep her expression as neutral as possible. Could King Jon bend the knee? Could the Night King be defeated so easily? Was all this worry and concern unwarranted?

Finally, Jon nodded. "The safety of my people must be my first priority. If you dragons can spare their lives, they and I will be grateful. Aye, _if_ you destroy the Night King, the North will accept you as their queen."

Translations:

Kirimvose (thank you)

**Author's Note:**

I've pulled or adapted specific lines from season 7, episode 5 to show where we are in the story. I didn't feel the need to change any of Brienne's actions while she was with Sansa. Brienne was focused on her oath to Lady Catelyn. She's now been released of that oath and can focus on her own future.


	14. Lineage Keeper

**THE KEEPER**

Chapter 14 – Lineage Keeper

"I wish you could stay longer, daughter," Selwyn Tarth said.

Brienne smiled up at her father. For most of her life, he's been the tallest man she'd known. Once she left Tarth, she'd seen men as tall or even taller but as a child, her father had stood larger than life. He was still tall, now with grey in his dark blond hair and more lines on his face than she remembered, but her height made him less imposing. Or maybe it was looking into her own blue eyes, seeing the steady warmth in them.

"I do too, Father, but I have a duty to perform," Brienne said quietly. "I must return to Tyrosh."

"What about your duty to House Tarth?" Selwyn asked. "You are the future of this family and this island. You know you must provide an heir."

Brienne smiled to herself. She and her father had walked past the courtyard of Evenfall Hall, into the cool groves around the hall. What would her father say if she told him he already had five heirs? Five strong, young dragons that would soon join the world, able to protect not only Tarth, but all of Westeros.

"I know, Father. Please understand, I have already vowed to perform this last service," she explained. "You always told me honor, duty and service are the cornerstones of good leadership. How would I face the people of Tarth and, more importantly, you if I failed to follow your teachings?"

"One last service?" he questioned. "Then you will return to Tarth and focus on the future of our people?"

"Yes, Father, one last service then I will return," Brienne promised.

The dragons would enjoy Tarth. It had high cliffs like Dragonstone, plentiful fish and swimming but Tarth also had wild game and grassy valleys. Tarth would no longer be a pirate target once it became known dragons guarded its shores. The people would be safe, the island would be safe and the dragons would be big enough to defend themselves. She looked up, picturing the five soaring through the skies, darting through the trees and playing in the sunshine.

A bright streak of silver caught her eye. "What's that?"

Selwyn turned his head to follow her gaze. "I don't believe it. The silver eagles have returned."

"Silver eagles?" Brienne shaded her eyes with her hand. "I don't recall ever seeing silver eagles in Tarth."

"It's been a long time since they were last here. The last time I recall seeing them was before we lost your mother." Selwyn's voice was heavy with remembered pain.

Brienne froze, her mind going back to her dream in the dragon's cave. _A shriek pierced the air. An eagle appeared out of the shadow of the dragon, its silver feathers brilliant in the moonlight, its wingspan enormous and its claws razor sharp._

"Father, when did the silver eagles first appear in Tarth? Was it during my life?" she asked.

Selwyn thought. "Yes, it was. I remember you were in your mother's arms, not yet walking, when she called me to see them." Haunting sadness pulled at the corners of his mouth. "She was so excited. She said the eagles had come to meet you because House Mallister was as much her children's blood as House Tarth."

Brienne held her breath as her mind replayed the conversation in the Golden Company's office.

"_Oye, Griff, amaze us with the book learning you're always doing," Tristan had said. "What houses have birds on their shields?"_

"_House Erenford and House Mallister in the Riverlands…" _

"Father," Brienne kept her voice soft to hide the shakiness. "Is the silver eagle the sigil for House Mallister?"

"Yes, a silver eagle on an indigo plate," Selwyn answered, his attention still on the eagle. "Look, there's a nest. The silver eagles are roosting in Tarth again. Your mother would be so happy to see them."

"Perhaps she does, wherever she is now," Brienne said softly.

Selwyn smiled sadly. "I hope so."

They began to walk back to Evenfall Hall.

"I barely remember what Mother looked like. I remember she was soft and spoke so sweetly," Brienne recalled. "I think she had blonder hair than me and different eyes."

"Yes, your hair is golden blonde while her hair was silver blond and her eyes were a darker blue. Her hair color was almost the same silver as the eagles." Selwyn's smile became brighter. "You have my eyes and your hair color matches Allyna's mother."

"My grandmother had my hair color?" Brienne clarified. "What about grandfather? Was he also fair?"

"No, he wasn't. He had dark hair and dark eyes. It's surprising your mother was so fair when the rest of the Mallister family has dark coloring," Selwyn commented innocently.

Brienne took a deep breath to steady her voice. "Perhaps there was another in Mother's lineage who had fair coloring."

Such as the Mad King, known for his many bastards. A secret dragon had been hidden in House Mallister. Brienne's grandmother had passed Aerys's bastard, Allyna, as her husband's child, much as Cersei had passed Jamie's bastards as Robert's children. She, Brienne of Tarth, was the granddaughter of the Mad King.

"My Lady! My Lord!" Podrick came racing up the path.

Brienne hurried her pace to meet him. "Podrick, what's wrong?"

He held out a scroll, gasping for breath. "Terrible news… from Dragonstone."

Brienne snatched up the scroll. Her father leaned over her shoulder.

_The Night King was not defeated. Viserion was lost in battle. Parlay must occur. Please return to Dragonstone immediately._

"Viserion?" Brienne gasped. "Viserion the dragon? The Night King defeated a dragon? He _killed_ a dragon?"

"How does one kill a grown dragon?" Selwyn asked.

"I don't know but we must find out." Brienne turned to Selwyn. "Father, may we have one of your ships to sail to Dragonstone?"

"But don't you need to go to Tyrosh?" Selwyn asked. "What about your one last service?"

"I will fulfill that service," Brienne promised. "But I must go to Dragonstone first. We must meet with King Jon."

Dragonstone was much as Brienne remembered it, dark and imposing. But now there was a heavy gloom over the island. Even the dragons weren't in flight. They docked on the harbor with minimum fuss. The Dothraki came to greet them but gave them no trouble. They worked quietly and efficiently, unloading the supplies Selwyn had so graciously brought with them. Brienne, Podrick and Selwyn were as quiet as the guards as they trudged up to the castle.

The gloom was even heavier inside the castle. Instead of the throne room, they were taken to a meeting room with a large table depicting Westeros dominating the space. Tyrion, Jon, Davos, Jorah and Varys sat in the room. They rose when Brienne's introduced them to her father.

"Welcome, Lord Selwyn," Jon said. "Thank you for bringing supplies. It was most generous of you."

"My daughter had sworn herself to your family," Selwyn said. "You gave her the opportunity to serve. I thank you for seeing the greatness in her as I do, your Grace."

Jon shook his head. "You owe me no thanks, my Lord. In truth, my family is deeply indebted to your daughter. Rest assured, should she ever require it, House Stark stands at her back."

Selwyn blinked. "Thank… thank you, your Grace. I didn't realize my daughter provided such a great service."

"She did indeed," Jon smiled at Brienne. "You should be proud of her, my Lord. She is one of the finest and most honorable warriors I've ever know."

Selwyn smiled. "I am."

Brienne tried to accept the praise but it was impossible for her focus on anything but King Jon's message.

"Your Grace, what happened?" she demanded. "Is it true the Night King killed Viserion? He killed a dragon?"

Jon nodded soberly. "Yes. Ser Jorah and I led a group of one hundred men north of the wall with Queen Daenerys. It didn't take long for her to find the Night King's army. At first it seemed she was right and would easily defeat the army of the dead. The dragons destroyed whites by the hundreds."

"Then the White Walkers came and we engaged them." Jorah took up the story. "King Jon killed a White Walker. Immediately after, a whole group of the dead shattered."

"We think that means destroying a White Walker destroys the dead it raised." Tyrion spoke.

"There was no time to test that theory," Jorah continued. "We fought the dead around us and Khaleesi destroyed them from the skies. Fire burned the dead, dragonglass and our Valyrian steel caused them to shatter. We also confirmed they can't swim because those who fell through the ice did not return. Only King Jon was able to get close enough to kill a White Walker. Then the Night King road into the battle."

The men fell silent. Brienne looked around. "What happened?"

"Khaleesi saw the Night King and led her dragons to him." Johan rubbed his hand over his face, looking older and tired.

"Dragonfire didn't kill the White Walkers or the Night King," Jon announced.

"Are you saying the Night King and his generals are immune to dragonfire?" Brienne clarified.

Tyrion nodded sadly. "Yes."

"Then what?" Brienne demanded. "Did you retreat?"

"Not then," Jorah said. "Khaleesi and her dragons continued to rain fire on the dead while we tried to get closer to the Night King and his generals. Valyrian steel killed a White Walker so it might also kill the Night King. We knew we had to decimate as much of his army as we could. There were thousands upon thousands of them. We would never again have the chance for a surprise attack."

"What about Viserion? How did you lose Viserion?" Brienne tried to keep her voice even, not let panic come through in tone or actions.

"Between the men on the ground and the dragons in the air, we had cut down the Night King's forces to less than half," Jon spoke. "Then the Night King threw a spear at Viserion. His strength was greater than any man and his throw was so strong, it pierced the dragon's neck. The dragon fell from the sky, bleeding heavily, then sunk into the waters when it broke through the ice."

"We did capture one of the creatures," Jorah said. "It -"

"A creature for my child." A voice broke in from behind them.

They all turned to look. Daenerys stood in the doorway, Missandei at her side. The Queen was neatly dressed and coiffed but there were dark circles under her eyes and her face was colorless.

"I sacrificed my child for a creature." Daenerys came into the room.

Jorah sprang up and guided her to a chair. "Khaleesi, you did not know what would happen."

"But I had been warned." Her voice was thick and scratchy. "King Jon and Ser Davos warned me. I, in my hubris, thought I was unstoppable. I thought my dragons made me invincible. My dragons had always been my strength, the greatest force in the world. I never thought to act with caution, never believed there were things in this world more powerful than my children." She picked up a carved dragon piece from the table in front of her. "I've lost Viserion because I didn't think to protect my child."

She hugged the carving to her breast then suddenly threw it against the wall. The carving broke into small pieces. Daenerys sucked in a deep, sobbing breath.

"What am I without my children?" she demanded. "They are all I am."

"They are not all you are, Khaleesi," Jorah insisted. "Were your dragons at your side when you went to Vaes Dothrak? You entered the Temple of the Dosh Khaleen with no dragons, no army, no advisors and emerged the Khaleesi of the Great Grass Sea. You are Daenerys Stormborn of House Targaryen. You have overcome too much to doubt yourself now."

A heavy silence settled over the room as Daenerys looked at her advisor, color returning to her cheeks and lips. Her chin firmed and she nodded. The sadness, however, still darkened her eyes.

"Even so, how could I have been so arrogant to attack this enemy without preparation?" Her voice was calmer, more composed, but still heavy with sadness.

"Your Grace, you weren't arrogant," Missandei insisted. "You were honoring your pledge to help the North fight this terrible threat. No one knew how strong this Night King would be or the magic it held. You cannot blame yourself."

"But I do," Daenerys began when a terrible screeching drowned her out.

"What is it?" Jon looked around, his hand on his sword.

Missandei's eyes widened as she listened to the shouting from the hall. "It's the dragons, your Grace. They're under attack!"

Daenerys's cry was half rage, half despair. She darted out into the hallway towards the main doors, ignoring her advisors' pleas to come back, stay safely out of the conflict. They followed as she raced outside, her guards swarming around her. They all gathered in the stone courtyard and looked to the sky.

The display of dragonfire was spectacular. Drogon and Rhaegal unleashed streams of fire as they circled the five smaller dragons. The five fired back, their fire power only a fraction of the bigger dragons' but their larger number allowing them to hold their own. Drogon stopped firing and butted the little dragon closest, sending it higher in the air.

"No!" Brienne fought to break out of the crush of people.

Where she was going, she didn't know. Her only thought was to help her dragons. Why were they here? They were supposed to be in Valyria with Griff, safe from threats such as the Night King and the wars of men. Why were Drogon and Rhaegal attacking the five? The big dragon had birthed the little dragons. They were kin. Could a dragon turn on its own, a parent killing their own child?

"More dragons?" Daenerys gasped.

"Your Grace, they're not attacking," Missandei cried. "They're playing."

Brienne stopped struggling to look. It was true. Now Rhaegal also butted the smaller dragons around. The five allowed the bigger dragons to toss them then came back for more. One even landed on Drogon's back, rolled and dove back into the tussle.

"Where did they come from?" Daenerys spoke Brienne's thoughts aloud.

Brienne looked at the Dragon Queen. Some of the grief had eased out of her face as awe replaced it. As she watched, tears leaked out of the Daenerys's eyes.

Secrecy was the dragons' greatest defense. But they, or the Gods, had decided to present them to the world and the only other person who had dragons. They were up in the air, over Dragonstone, for all to see. A sharp pang ached inside Brienne's heart. The five were now exposed and more vulnerable than ever. How could she protect them without Griff and his army? Would the Dragon Queen protect the five or try to seize them?

The ache in Brienne's heart deepened. Would the dragons remember her? Were they angry with her for leaving them? There had been no way to explain to them why she'd left. Did they think she'd abandoned them? Or did they miss her? Her heart beat faster as she continued to push forward. Were they here because they _wanted_ to be with her? Could their instinct have guided them back to her? She finally fought her way out of the crowd, to the far side of the courtyard.

She cupped her hands around her mouth. "Zaldrīzoti, māzigon naejot issa!"

Everyone turned to stare at her. Her focus was still on the five, ignoring the array of shocked and awed faces around her. The five were too far away. There was no way they could hear her, could they? Miraculously, the five pulled away from their play and began circling, as if they were trying to locate something. Brienne held her breath.

Then the little dragons turned from the bigger dragons and streaked towards the ground. The guards tightened their ring around their queen, pulling out their weapons. Jon, Jorah, Davos and even Podrick and Selwyn took out their swords.

"No!" Brienne cried. "Put away your weapons! They won't attack you. _Please_!" She turned pleading eyes to Daenerys and Jon. "Please, your Graces. I know them. I give you my word they won't attack."

Selwyn and Podrick put away their swords. Jon and Davos followed their example a beat later. Jorah turned to his queen. Daenerys looked from Brienne to the dragons racing down at them then back to Brienne.

"Put down your weapons!" The queen ordered.

Missandei echoed her queen's command in several languages. The guards obeyed but remained tightly grouped around Daenerys. Everyone watched, wide-eyed as the dragons landed, one by one. Gallan landed first and, in an uncharacteristic action, threw itself at Brienne. Allwyn came next, squawking and flapping its wings in the way that was well in character, fighting for place beside Gallan in Brienne's arms.

The dragons had grown significantly, to more than double the size of when she'd seen them last. They were so strong now each hot body hitting her sent Brienne back a step, so by the time Catren barreled into her, she was forced to sit hard on the ground. Serdun and Ardayn came up behind her, rubbing against her back.

The five circled around her and squawked loudly, fighting for Brienne's attention and caresses. She rose to her knees and turned in a circle, hugging and greeting each by name. They looked like proper dragons now, with fully defined scales and spikes. Their bodies were the size of dogs, their wings and tails twice that, their heads coming to Brienne's shoulders as she knelt before them.

Drogon and Rhaegal roared as they landed on the cliffs overlooking the beach, close enough to watch but far enough away to reassure the men unused to dragons. A hush fell over the courtyard as Brienne finally calmed the five. She couldn't rise, as they pressed against her when she tried to get up, as if fearing she would leave them again.

Tears filled her eyes as she rested her forehead against Allwyn's neck. The five hadn't forgotten her. Her dragons had crossed two seas and an entire country to return to her. Who or what had guided them? Was Griff now frantically searching for them? Would he come to Westeros and risk revealing himself too soon?

Her thoughts were interrupted when Daenerys crossed the courtyard to them. The clicking of the queen's boot steps sounded abnormally loud in the silent courtyard.

"Lady Brienne," Daenerys said, her voice now strong and steady. "I believe you have a story to share with us."

Brienne nodded and tried to get up. The dragons squawked and even yelped, tightening around her, encasing her in their hot, rough bodies. The pain in Brienne's heart bloomed to fill her whole chest. Had she been wrong? Had she made a mistake to come back to Westeros to protect Sansa? Had she chosen to honor the wrong vow? Should she have stayed with the dragons, spared them the fear and confusion of losing their keeper? They were strong and healthy so clearly Griff had taken good care of them but she was their human bond, their protector. What damage had she unintentionally done by leaving them?

"They need time, your Grace," she explained. "We've been apart for many months."

Daenerys slowly extended her hand then snatched it back. She repeated the action then sighed. At first, Brienne didn't understand her intention until she saw the Dragon Queen's hand shake and her stark expression. She realized Daenerys wanted to touch the dragons but feared rejection if they shied away from her. She was still absorbing the shock of losing Viserion.

"Choose this one, your Grace" Brienne advised, stroking Gallan's neck. "Gallan has a calm temperament but isn't as stubborn as Serdun or Ardayn."

"Gallan?" Selwyn spoke for the first time, blue eyes wide with awe. "Is he named after your brother?"

"Yes, Father, I named it after Galladon," Brienne confirmed. "Gallan is as blue and as calm as Tarth's sapphire waters."

"I named Viserion after my brother." Tears filled Daenerys's eyes as she held her hand out for Gallan to sniff. "It was my way of keeping his memory alive."

Brienne nodded. "Mine, too."

Gallan looked at Brienne then hesitantly sniffed Daenerys hand. True to his nature, he allowed Daenerys to stroke him. She knelt beside Brienne and ran her hands down Gallan's rough hot body. Gallan leaned closer to Daenerys but looked back to Brienne.

"Don't worry, Gallan," Daenerys crooned. "I won't take you from your mother. I just wish to be your friend."

"Father, please help me," Brienne requested.

Selwyn's eyes widened but he displayed the courage and fortitude Brienne had spent her entire life trying to emulate. He crossed slowly and calmly to his daughter.

"They don't know me," he cautioned.

"But they know me," Brienne explained. "They'll see me in you and fall into your arms just as I do." She stroked Allwyn. "I named this one after Mother and you. It's the one who always wants to be held. Allwyn, go to your namesake."

Allwyn may not have understood the words but it stretched its neck to look at Selwyn. Selwyn knelt and all the dragons looked from father to daughter then back again. As Brienne predicted, Allwyn willingly went to Selwyn when he held out his hand.

"Brienne." Jon took small, slow steps closer to her. "You saved Sansa and created a bond with House Stark that will never be broken. Will that be enough for your dragons to consider me a friend?"

Brienne looked over the three dragons still huddled around her. Catren was their leader. As long as Brienne held it, the rest would remain calm. But Serdun and Ardayn were her most devoted guards. Could they be persuaded to leave her side? Gently she nudged Ardayn forward.

"Ser Arthur Dayne, _the Sword of the Morning_, was considered one of the greatest knights in Westerosi history. Perhaps Ardayn will bond with another man who is destined to leave his mark on Westeros."

Ardayn moved forward, matching Jon's slow measured steps. Suddenly the dragon squawked and jumped against Jon with such strength, the king was forced to take a step back to keep his balance. His arms tightened automatically around the dragon when it landed against his chest. The King in the North blinked, looking dazed.

"That…that was easy," he muttered.

"Drogon took to you, as well," Daenerys commented. "Why is that?"

Jon looked confused. "I don't know. I have a direwolf. Perhaps the dragons can smell him on me or sense our connection, one magical creature to another?"

Daenerys frowned but was distracted when Gallan shifted closer to her. She wrapped her arms around the dragon and hugged it, tears slipping from her eyes.

"That might explain why Ardayn took to you so easily," Brienne suggested. "If Drogon likes you, it makes sense its offspring will like you, too."

"Drogon?" Daenerys repeated. "These are Drogon's children?"

"Yes, your Grace. Drogon led me to them. I cared for them until it was time for them to leave with their father." Brienne buried her face in Catren's neck to hide the flush in her cheeks. Lying didn't come naturally to her so abbreviated truths were the best she could do.

"Where were they while you were protecting Sansa?" Jon shifted Ardayn in his arms.

"Valyria," Jorah replied coming closer to them. "Lord Tyrion and I saw Drogon when we road through the ruined city. It's the natural home of dragons."

"Why didn't he bring the little ones with us when we left Essos?" Daenerys wondered.

Everyone turned to look at Drogon. Fortunately, the dragon didn't speak the Common Tongue and couldn't reveal the truth. How would the Dragon Queen react upon learning her own nephew had a stronger bond with Drogon's children than she did?

"Perhaps he tried but they wanted to find Lady Brienne instead?" Jorah suggested.

"We should take the dragons inside," Daenerys decided. "They're probably tired and we need a comfortable place to sit. I wish to know every detail of Lady Brienne's adventure."

Not that Brienne would reveal it. Daenerys would not take kindly to learning her brother Rhaegar had left behind a son. A son with a greater claim to ruling Westeros. A king of the people, who would work for their good, not his own. A man who would guide the seven kingdoms to a great and glorious future.

Brienne tried to get up but the combined weight of Catren and Serdun held her down. "Podrick!"

Podrick turned sickly pale but obediently, though very slowly, crossed the courtyard. Tyrion patted his hand as he passed.

"Don't worry, young Podrick," Tyrion encouraged. "Dragons are highly intelligent, perhaps even more intelligent than humans. They know friend from foe. They know you love Lady Brienne as much as they do."

The words didn't appear to reassure Podrick whose face was now shiny with sweat. Still, he continued forward, his faith in his lady unwavering. Brienne stroked Serdun's neck and nodded to Podrick.

"Serdun is named after Ser Duncan the Tall, the greatest knight in my family's history. And you, Podrick, will one day be a great knight, too," Brienne promised.

Like Ardayn had with Jon, Serdun began to walk to Podrick. The dragon didn't jump into the squire's arms but allowed Podrick to stroke it. Serdun sniffed him carefully then rose in a perfect vertical lift. Podrick gasped and froze. The dragon draped itself around Podrick's shoulders, like a living, fire-breathing cape. Podrick grunted, his knees buckling under the weight of the dog-sized dragon, fading terror still tightening his expression.

"My Lady, Ser," he gasped. "Why must we carry them? They can fly!"

"The dragons have been away from their mother for a long time," Daenerys smiled gently at Gallan. "They need reassurance they will not be separated from Lady Brienne again."

"I can't carry them all," Brienne continued. "They've attached themselves to those they sense are bonded to me, you and Father."

"I'm bonded to Drogon so they've also accepted me," Daenerys tore her gaze from Gallan long enough to glance up at Podrick. "Drogon has shown an affinity for King Jon, so he must be an acceptable bond, too."

Brienne stood with Catren in her arms. The other dragons twisted their necks to watch. Catren squawked and wrapped tightly around Brienne, so tightly Brienne knew she'd have bruises. But it was worth it to reassure the five she would remain with them.

Beside her, Selwyn rose with Allwyn in his arms. The dragon was relaxed, its long neck wrapped around Brienne's father's shoulders, tail wrapped around his waist. Selwyn grinned at Brienne.

"It's just like carrying you. You were a heavy baby and liked to snuggle your face in my neck." His grin suddenly faded. "Do dragons spit up fire?"

"Blowing fire is something they learned, Father, not an accidental act." Brienne reassured. "They don't leak fire."

Daenerys tried to rise but Gallan was too heavy for the tiny Queen. "Ser Jorah, help me, please."

"Always, Khaleesi," He came to his queen's side without hesitation. "Shall I carry the dragon for you?"

"No, I want to hold him." Daenerys shifted her arms around Gallan. "Come behind me and help me lift him."

"Yes, Khaleesi." The look of devotion on the aging knight's face was heart wrenching to see.

He knelt behind his queen, wrapped his arms around her, under her arms, giving her his strength to rise. The guards parted to create a path to the castle doors. Daenerys looked over the assembled crowd.

"My Lords and Ladies, King Jon." Somehow, she still looked regal even with Gallan overfilling her arms and Jorah hovering with his hands ready to support her. "Let's go inside and strategize for this parlay. We have a kingdom to save."

She looked strong and sure, despite the heavy sadness darkening her eyes. The grieving mother had taken a much-needed respite while the focused Queen remerged. Brienne looked at Jon and saw the relief in his expression. They needed Daenerys and her dragons now more than ever. The Night King's power and magic was greater than they'd anticipated, the five young dragons were exposed and Cersei still loomed as a threat.

The Dragon Queen was powerful, well-armed and willing to fight for the living. Brienne knew the war against the Night King didn't diminish Daenerys's driving desire to sit upon the Iron Throne. She would put aside her goals to save the realm and extract vengeance for her lost child. She would not forget her ambitions. The future survival of Westeros lay in the hands of a woman obsessed with destiny, immersed in grief, hungry for revenge and thirsting for conquest. How would they keep her on the proper path?

The weight of that responsibility caused a shudder to pass through Brienne. Catren shifted but still maintained a bruising hold. Brienne stroked Catren as she waited for her turn to walk inside. She was a knight, used to following orders. If only Griff were here. He'd know what to do. He knew how to bring people together, guide them towards a desired goal and find common ground among warring factions. Griff has been raised to rule.

Jon turned to her, is if sensing her distress. He gave her a small smile and nod around the burden of Ardayn in his arms. Some of the heaviness lifted from Brienne's shoulders. Jon had shown the same aptitude for leadership. He had united the North and was now building an alliance with Daenerys. He would also parlay with Cersei. Griff wasn't here but she and Jon were. Maybe they would be enough to guide the queens towards the common goal.

At least until the son of Rhaegar Targaryen came to take his rightful place as the true ruler of the Seven Kingdoms.


	15. Prophecy Keeper

**THE KEEPER**

Chapter 15 – Prophecy Keeper

Everyone once again gathered in the _Chamber of the Painted Table_. This time there was fresh energy in the room, the atmosphere lifted by the inclusion of the five young dragons. Catren and Allwyn still maintained tight grips on Brienne and Selwyn, respectively. Serdun flew off Podrick's shoulders, to the young squire's great relief. Podrick flexed his shoulders but stopped in mid-stretch when Serdun plunked itself onto the table between him and Brienne. The dragon was positioned between the two, close enough to attach itself to either if they tried to stand.

"I'm sorry, Serdun." Brienne leaned closer with difficulty, since Catren refused to loosen its grip. "I had to honor my vow to Lady Catelyn. I would never have left you otherwise."

"For which you will always have my family's gratitude and loyalty." Across the table, Jon carefully deposited Ardayn onto the tabletop. "The North will never forget you rescued Sansa and kept her safe."

Ardayn looked around to the other dragons then sat down, alert and watchful, its tail falling into Jon's lap. The clever dragon, half of Brienne's most ardent guards, kept hold on Jon while still observing the other people in the room. Serdun also turned to face the room's occupants. The two dragons were on opposite sides of the table, actively searching for threats.

Davos was seated just north of the Iron Islands on the map, with Jon on his left, properly at the North. Selwyn was seated in front of Tarth in the Stormlands. Daenerys was between them, positioned in front of Dragonstone. Missandei was at her right, in front of the Vale with Jorah beside her, near his ancestral home of Bear Island. Brienne and Podrick were at the south side, in front of Dorne. Varys sat in front of the Reach while Tyrion was positioned in front of his former home in the Westerlands.

"Lady Brienne, please tell us how you came to know Drogon's children." Daenerys's command sounded more like a plea.

The queen settled Gallan in her lap and hugged the dragon. Gallan, calm and stoic as always, allowed it, while still carefully observing the room. The dragons were on high alert, watchful for any threat that would try to separate them from Brienne.

"I went to Braavos in search of Lady Arya," Brienne began. "She wasn't there but a saltwater priest told me he'd seen a vision of my future and sent me to Tyrosh."

Davos snorted. "Visions? You know better than to trust visions, Lady Brienne. Remember the horrors that witch Melisandre did in the name of her Lord's visions?"

"Melisandre, the Red Priestess of the Lord of Light?" Daenerys asked.

"Yes, do you know her?" Davos's lip curled. "Don't trust her. She's evil."

"We'll come back to Melisandre," Daenerys assured. "First I want to hear from Lady Brienne."

"The priest told me he and other followers of the Drowned God has seen the same visions. One had already come true, as did the rest. All were about Sansa." Brienne looked at Jon. "That's how I was able to find Sansa and take her to you."

Jon frowned. "Perhaps it's not the visions that are at fault. Mayhap the fault lies in the person interpreting the visions?"

"That's what Kinvara said," Brienne agreed.

"Kinvara?" Varys spoke to for the first time. "You met that red witch, too?"

Brienne nodded. "After Podrick and I arrive in Tyrosh, she found us. She told me where to go to find my guide. That guide turned out to be Drogon, who led me to the cave when the five baby dragons were hidden."

"My Lady, Ser, weren't you afraid following the dragon?" Podrick asked.

"I didn't follow the dragon," Brienne said drily. "It spooked my horse who then threw me. The cave was the only nearby shelter."

"These dragons must be nearly a year old," Tyrion spoke. "Yet there was no whisper of them. How did you hide them?"

"They're seven months old," Brienne corrected. "I took a boat. They were very small at the time, not yet flying or breathing fire. I kept them at sea."

"All by yourself?" Daenerys demanded. "Was there no one to help you? Where was Podrick?"

"I sent him back to Tarth, your Grace," Brienne answered. "I didn't know how long my search would be so I sent him to my father. As for being by myself, my father taught me how to manage boats of all sizes. I know them well."

"And you were never disturbed, never threatened?" Tyrion probed.

"There was one attack," Brienne admitted. "Three full pirate ships found us and tried to board."

Daenerys gasped and hugged Gallan closer. Gallan, placid as always, briefly rested its head on the queen's shoulder, as though to comfort her. Then the dragon returned to watching the people at the table, almost as if following the conversation.

"How did you protect the dragons?" she demanded.

"I didn't." Brienne looked sadly at her guards. "They protected me. They set fire to the pirate ships' sails. Then Drogon flew in and destroyed the pirate ships."

She shuddered at the memory, at how easily Drogon had crushed the pirates' armada. A tremor passed through her body, so strong it was visible to the others at the table. Brienne dropped her head.

The dragon's fury and vengeance had been horrifying to behold. Would the five ever be pushed to destroy with such ruthless force? One day they would be as big as Drogon, perhaps even bigger, the most powerful creatures in the world. Would they stay together, a caring family protecting their own or could they possibly turn on each other? Could she teach them tolerance and honor, the way her father had taught her? Was nurture powerful enough to guide the dragons' nature?

"Was that when Drogon took them from you, Lady Brienne?" Tyrion broke into her thoughts, his voice gentle. "When you could no longer protect them on your own?"

Brienne lowered her ducked head further, not wanting them to see her anxiety. Tyrion though she was upset about the dragons' past when she was actually terrified for their future. Catren finally relaxed its hold, allowing Brienne to wrap the hot, heavy weight in her arms, holding the dragon as tightly as it had held her. Daenerys had assured Gallan she didn't intend to take the five away from Brienne. Her intentions could change or others might come after them. What would they do to stay together and to stay with her? Were they capable of doing what Drogon had done?

"How old were the dragons when you last saw them, Lady Brienne?" Missandei's voice was also soft and low.

Brienne kept her head down. "Three months."

"Three months," Jorah repeated. "They've been separated from you for longer than they've been with you. Yet they crossed half the known world to return to you, not to Drogon."

Brienne nodded, head still down.

"Lady Brienne needs a moment. Let's talk about these prophecies," Daenerys suggested. "Lady Brienne received several from a Red Priestess as did I."

"Don't believe a word of what you hear from the red witch," Davos snarled. "She's an evil, evil creature who burns children _alive_ at the stake."

"What?" Daenerys straightened in her chair.

They listened intently as Davos told them all about Melisandre's false faith in Stannis Baratheon, the shadow she'd created to kill Renly, her subsequent murder of Princess Shireen, ending with Stannis's loss against Ramsey Bolton's men and Brienne's execution of Stannis in Renly's name.

"That witch may say King Jon is the prince or Queen Daenerys is the princess who was promised to bring the dawn. Don't believe her. She has her prophecies mixed up and falsely interpreted visions because of it." Davos finished.

"Why do you say that, Ser Davos?" Missandei asked. "What prophecies did she confuse?"

"I remember her lies as clear as day. She told them to Stannis often enough." Davos's gentle face flushed with remembered fury. "She called him Azor Ahai and said 'you are he who must stand against the Other. The one whose coming was prophesied five thousand years ago. The red comet was your herald. You are the prince that was promised, and if you fail the world fails with you.' Well, Stannis is dead and the world still stands, doesn't it?"

"The red comet," Selwyn murmured. "I'd forgotten about that." Then he smiled. "But that was a busy night. Brienne was being born that night."

Everyone stared at Selwyn then Brienne.

"Odd, she doesn't look like a young child to me," Tyrion commented. "The red comet was seen about four years ago, if I recollect correctly."

"Yes," Daenerys agreed. "That was the year my dragons were born."

"There was another red comet," Varys said quietly. "And another prophecy. 'When the red star bleeds and the darkness gathers, Azor Ahai shall be born again amidst smoke and salt to wake dragons out of stone.' She confused or joined the prophecy of the prince who was promised, who was born under a red star and Azor Ahai, who would wake dragons from stone under a red star."

"I heard one, too," Tyrion said. "The slaves in Volatis all told it. 'There will come a day after a long summer when the stars bleed and the cold breath of darkness falls heavy on the world. In this dread hour a warrior shall draw from the fire a burning sword. And that sword shall be Lightbringer, the Red Sword of Heroes, and he who clasps it shall be Azor Ahai come again, and the darkness shall flee before him."

"I was born in salt and smoke, here on Dragonstone," Daenerys reminded them. "I woke dragons from dragon eggs as hard as stone. Does that make me Azor Ahai reborn?"

"Though you are powerful, you're not a warrior, Khaleesi," Jorah reminded her. "You carry no sword."

"True," Daenerys agreed. "But the cold breath of darkness does sound like the Night King."

"The dragon must have three heads," Selwyn announced quietly.

They all looked at him, most in confusion, Brienne in shock. Griff had already told her Rhaegar had believed it, believed having three people with dragon's blood would create enough magic to allow dragons to be reborn. How did her father know about the prophecy?

Selwyn met her shocked gaze and sighed. "I shouldn't have spoken. It was something a friend told me long ago, in confidence. All this talk of prophecies brought it to my mind."

"No, Lord Selwyn, you absolutely must speak," Jon contradicted. "I, as the king your daughter pledged her sword to, command you to speak freely."

"And I, the rightful Queen of Seven Kingdoms, grant you clemency from any harm your words may cause." Daenerys added. "We must know what you know."

Selwyn remained quiet for a moment, then nodded.

"King Jaehaerys, your grandfather, your Grace," Selwyn nodded to Daenerys, "believed in the prophecies of the prince who was promised. He even commanded your mother, Queen Rhaella, and father, King Aerys to marry. A woods witch had foretold that the prince who was promised would be born of their line."

He paused and looked around the table. Everyone watched him with rapt attention, even the dragons. Allwyn pressed against Selwyn's throat, enjoying the rumble of his voice. Selwyn stroked the dragon's long neck, seeming to draw comfort from the act.

"Continue," Daenerys urged.

"Prince Rhaegar was brought up to believe in the prophecy," Selwyn went on. "He thought he was the prince who was promised. He believed he was destined have three children. Those three children would have the blood of the dragon and thus allow dragons to be reborn."

"You knew my brother?" Daenerys demanded.

"I knew him as my prince, your Grace. He knew me because I was a friend of Jon Connington. Jon was one of the prince's closest friend and the finest man I ever knew." Selwyn frowned, his gaze far-away as his thoughts returned to the past. "Jon confided in me he was worried about the Prince. He said Rhaegar had come back to the city after a trip to Dragonstone, very disturbed. The Prince took to his rooms and immersed himself in studying scrolls. After a few days, he announced he'd become a knight."

"I've been told my brother was already a great warrior," Daenerys frowned.

"He was, your Grace," Selwyn agreed. "A knight is the next level of warrior. He devoted himself to becoming a knight after that trip and what he found in those scrolls. Then Prince Aegon was born. He, like my Brienne, was born on the night of the red comet. That's when Rhaegar became fixated on the idea of producing three children to be the three heads of the dragon."

"But my brother and his two children died," Daenerys concluded. "I brought my dragons into the world as the last, and only, Targaryen."

"The last Targaryen." Selwyn's eyes widened. His head snapped around to Brienne. "Is this why you asked me about your mother? How Allyna could have silver-blond hair and purple eyes when everyone else born of House Mallister had dark hair and eyes? You were also born of salt and smoke. You didn't find these dragons. They're bonded to you. You _birthed_ these dragons, didn't you? You have Targaryen blood!"

For a moment there was complete silence as everyone stared at Brienne.

Targaryen blood. Three children with the blood of the dragon existed in the world. Daenerys was the daughter of the destined bloodline while Griff was the grandson. But how could the prophecy be true if Brienne wasn't a child of Queen Rhaella's line? Was there another Targaryen out there, perhaps ignorant of his lineage, as she'd been? Brienne was positive she'd been born of King Aerys's bastard line. She had to be Targaryen. How else could she have the blood of the dragon?

"Well, daughter? Selwyn demanded. "Am I correct, Brienne?"

Brienne hesitated. She could barely lie in the best of situations. How could she possibly lie to her own father? She looked into his deep blue eyes, exactly like her own, and admitted defeat. She couldn't lie to him, not when he looked at her with such confused shock, not when the truth of the dragons sat, trustingly, in their laps. He'd taught her to be honorable, for nothing was more sacred to a knight than their honor.

Whatever the cost, her father deserved the honor of the truth and her trust. He was a strong man, the finest she knew. She left nothing out, telling of the lion attack, Drogon's rescue, the slavers, Drogon's burning of them with her in the cave, waking up to baby dragons and the second slaver attack.

For a moment there was complete silence. Everyone looked at each other, varying degrees of shock and confusion in their expressions, except the dragons. They looked to Brienne, alert and watchful, silent reassurance that they'd would always be with her. Finally, Tyrion cleared his throat.

"Lord Selwyn, what do you mean Lady Brienne was born of salt and smoke?" he asked. "Queen Daenerys was born here, at Dragonstone, surrounded by saltwater and the smoke of battle."

"Lighting struck outside Brienne's birthing room, starting an enormous fire," Selwyn explained. "The maesters warned we couldn't move Allyna at such a delicate time. The men and I formed a chain to the sea to bring up buckets of saltwater and sand. Women were at the bedroom doors and windows, fanning away the salt and smoke. And, into that chaos, Brienne was born. The only remaining member of my wonderful family."

"Lady Brienne, why didn't you tell us the full truth?" Daenerys demanded, her voice thick with suspicion. "Why were you trying to hide the details of the dragons' birth from us?"

"I wasn't trying to hide the dragons' birth, your Grace," Brienne clarified. "I was trying to spare my father pain. Though my mother didn't suffer the shame of being born a bastard, in truth she was. She and I are bastard children of House Targaryen."

"No, you are not!" Daenerys's voice rang with conviction. "You are Lady Brienne of Tarth. I won't allow anyone to speak of you as anything less. You are a truer Targaryen than any other. The proof of that is in these five dragons. You are a legitimate, high-born lady and…" Her voice trailed off and her eyes widened. "And my _niece_. You're my blood." Tears filled the young queen's eyes. She blinked them back rapidly. "Forgive me. I'm not normally this emotional."

Missandei covered her queen's hand with her own. "You have suffered shock after shock, your Grace. You've fought the Night King, lost a child, found a niece and learned Drogon has brought five new dragons into the world. Anyone would be emotional after enduring what you have." She paused for a beat. "May I be the first to congratulate you on becoming a grandmother?"

Daenerys, who had been on the verge of crying, suddenly burst out laughing. It was a sweet, high laugh that broke the tension in the room. Everyone chuckled or smiled at each other. Even the dragons relaxed. Allwyn closed its eyes and curled up in Selwyn's lap. Catren tucked its wings close and pressed its head against Brienne's heartbeat. Ardayn and Serdun stretched out on the table, though still watchful. Gallan, held in Daenerys's arms, laid its head on her shoulder.

"Lord Selwyn, I'm very sorry to taint your memories of your dear wife." The queen pressed her soft, pale cheek against Gallan's rough, scaly neck. "But I'm grateful for who your daughter is and what she's done."

"My memories of my beloved wife have not been tainted, your Grace," Selwyn assured her. "I loved Allyna, so much so that I'll never take another wife. Eagles mate for life. Allyna insisted I devote equal time to our children because eagles share parenting duties." He smiled at Brienne. "That's why my daughter is so much like me."

"And why you are so good with the young," Brienne nodded at Allwyn in his lap.

"Eagles?" Tyrion spoke. "Ahh, yes, the sigil for House Mallister is the silver eagle. Their house motto is 'above the rest', I believe. It seems you were always destined to soar, Lady Brienne, either as an eagle or as a dragon."

"Speaking of soaring dragons, Your Grace, perhaps we don't need the parlay," Varys suggested.

Daenerys raised her head. "Why not? We agreed we needed a ceasefire with Cersei in order to focus all of our forces on the battle against the army of the dead."

"We did, but wouldn't it be easier if you were already Queen of the Seven Kingdoms?" Varys queried. "Cersei cannot be trusted, not even to know her own mind."

"How will I do that while Cersei sits on the Iron Throne?" Daenerys demanded. "My Hand has already informed me I cannot take my dragons and march into King's Landing."

"That's because your dragons are weapons of mass destruction," Tyrion reminded her patiently. "They are too big and too powerful to control their fire range. They'll burn the Red Keep to the ground and kill hundreds in the process."

Tyrion suddenly stopped speaking and exchanged glances with Varys.

"What?" Jon demanded. "What are you plotting?"

"Our queen's dragons are too powerful to take into King's Landing but these five are not," Varys explained. "There are passages under the city we can use to smuggle the dragons. They're small enough to take into the throne room. Cersei and her Queensgaurd can be defeated and Daenerys seated on the throne in a matter of minutes if we use the young dragons. They're precision instruments."

"They are not instruments," Brienne snarled. "They've never attacked on command nor do they have battle training. What could they do in the throne room?"

"They breathe fire, that's all they need to do," Varys pointed out.

"Even if that were possible, what about the people?" Daenerys demanded. "Would they follow me? The people of the Bay of Dragons overthrew their masters because they knew I would lead them to a better life. Why would the people of King's Landing follow me?"

"Your Grace, the common people don't care about Queens and thrones," Varys said. "They care about having food, homes and protection from those who would prey on them. They hate Cersei. None of them cared when the Faith Militants locked her in a cell. They threw filth at her when the High Sparrow cut off her hair, stripped her naked and paraded her through the streets. They'll welcome a ruler who sees them as people and not as cattle to be pushed about."

"My sister never leaves the Red Keep," Tyrion continued. "She knows the people hate her even more since the destruction of the Great Sept of Baelor. She's only safe behind castle walls with her guards around her."

"How was the sept destroyed?" Brienne demanded.

"Wildfire. My sister keeps stockpiles of it under the city," Tyrion admitted.

"You want to sneak fire-breathing dragons through passageways stocked with wildfire?" Brienne demanded. "Lord Hand, have you considered how dangerous that would be?"

"You said the dragons can control when they breathe fire," Varys reminded her.

"When they are calm and not threatened," Brienne shot back. "Do you believe they'll feel safe in dark, narrow tunnels or will they want light? Lord Varys, you know what kind of light dragons create."

Varys and Tyrion exchanged glances.

"Then consider what will happen if the dragons are attacked," Brienne continued. "They've no battle training and are young enough to be injured or killed. Worse, imagine what _Drogon_ will do if anyone attacks the little dragons. That so-called 'weapon of mass destruction' burned the entire pirates' armada to _ashes_ when they attacked these five. Drogon wouldn't spare anyone in the Red Keep if these dragons cry out for help."

Tyrion and Varys exchanged glances again.

"What about -" Tyrion began.

"No!" Daenerys's voice was as sharp as Valyrian steel. "I've already lost one child to impulsive, arrogant decisions. I won't make that mistake again. We will _not_ take the young dragons into the Red Keep. We will _not_ risk their lives and we won't put the people of King's Landing at risk, either. I won't be the Queen of Ashes. That's my final decision."

There was silence for a moment as her words faded from the air. Tyrion and Varys exchanged glances then nodded to their queen. Jon looked from them to Daenerys then Jorah and Davos. Jorah looked grim while Davos nodded back to the king.

"Then we must parlay with Cersei," Jon said. "That means Lady Brienne and the young dragons should stay behind in Dragonstone."

No, Brienne almost cried out. She couldn't stay behind. She needed to know what happened at the parlay. Griff and the _Golden Company_ needed to know how to react and prepare. She had to observe every detail, every expression that might be of value in crafting Griff's strategy.

"Your Grace, I believe I'll be of value at the parlay," Brienne insisted. "If we cannot reach a compromise with Cersei, I might be able to help Lord Tyrion reason with Ser Jaime."

"The Kingslayer? The Oathbreaker?" Jon's mouth curled into a sneer. "He has no more reason and even less honor than his sister. At least she's open about her evil."

"Ser Jaime swore an oath to Lady Catelyn to send Sansa and Arya back," Brienne said quietly. "Because of that oath, Ser Jaime gave me gold, armor and his Valyrian steel sword. If you feel you owe me a debt for saving Lady Sansa, your Grace, it's because Ser Jaime made it possible."

She watched the king's mouth drop open. He didn't speak but the shock, confusion, disbelief then hesitant acceptance in his expression spoke for him.

"My brother has honor, your Grace," Tyrion added. "His weakness is that he loves too deeply and will do _anything_ for those he loves. My sister is greedy and manipulative but my brother's sin is that he is a fool for love."

Jon closed his mouth. He looked at Daenerys. She frowned back at him, her expression caught between disbelief and congealed dislike. Neither spoke.

"Do you know why your brother killed King Aerys, Lord Hand?" Brienne asked. "Did you ever ask him about it?"

Tyrion shook his head. "I asked him once but he refused to speak of it. He only muttered 'what right does the wolf have to judge the lion' and walked away. We never spoke of it again."

"He told me." Brienne turned to Daenerys. "That wildfire Cersei used to destroy the Sept of Baelor was a favorite weapon of your father's. He liked to burn people alive with it."

"Aye," Jon agreed, finally finding his voice. "He burned my grandfather alive. He burned my uncle alive. He killed and laughed as his victims suffered."

"I already know my father was an evil man," Daenerys said quietly. "I'm aware he went insane."

"Do you know how insane, your Grace?" Brienne asked, her voice clear and direct. "Do you know he ringed King's Landing with caches of wildfire? That last day, when Ser Jaime killed him, Aerys ordered his pyromancers to burn the city to the ground. Do you know your father wanted to be the King of Ashes?"

She paused to watch the color drain from the queen's face. Daenerys shook her head slowly.

"He thought he'd be reborn as a dragon and would burn the world," Brienne continued. "That's why Ser Jaime killed him. Not because of how sickened he was by your father's vindictive killing; not from the misery of standing guard, hearing your mother's screams when your father repeatedly raped her; not because he knew your father was going mad. Ser Jaime killed him to save every man, woman and child in King's Landing."

The room fell silent. Brienne looked around to gage their reactions. Varys lowered his head, his eyes troubled. Tyrion's face was ashen grey while Jon's grim expression tightened. Davos and Jorah looked saddened. Missandei was quiet and calm, an observer who hadn't been affected by Jaime's actions or his subsequent fall from grace. Daenerys still looked stunned, her eyes dark and unfocused as she tried to absorb the new knowledge.

"Oh, Jaime." Tyrion's voice cracked. He covered his face with his hands and shook his head. "He was so proud to have become a knight. All he ever wanted was to serve with honor."

"His honor was stolen from him, Lord Hand," Brienne said. "As a knight, he didn't complain. He continued to serve his kings, _as was his duty_."

"Why didn't he ever speak of it?" Tyrion uncovered his face, his eyes bright with unshed tears. "It would've been easy to prove his claim by locating the caches of wildfire."

"Because Lord Ned Stark judged him without trial, without question and even without asking Ser Jaime for an explanation," Brienne fought to keep her voice even. "He stripped Ser Jaime of his honor and condemned him to a life branded an oath breaker. Ser Jaime, who had saved more lives than all the other knights in Westeros combined." She looked at Jon. "Your father's prejudice condemned and cast down one of the greatest heroes in all of the Seven Kingdoms."

Once again, Jon was silent. This time his mouth had flattened into a straight, hard line. Brienne knew she'd taken a calculated risk by confronting the monarchs so bluntly with their fathers' injustices. Blunt truth was the only way to make then understand how much Jaime had been wronged by those he'd sacrificed so much to serve.

"Ser Jaime had made mistakes. I don't deny that but he is a man of honor, your Graces," Brienne continued. "I'm proof of it. His unflagging service to kings who sneered and belittled him is proof of it."

"If we can't get through to Cersei, we'll reach Jaime." Tyrion sighed, his eyes still dark and devastated. "My brother has lived his entire adult life in shame and shadows, unable to claim his honor, his accomplishments or even his own children. Allow him to truly shine and he'll blind you with his light."

"Your father wronged him, your Grace," Brienne added, looking directly at Jon. "You have the opportunity to right that wrong. The White Wolf has united wildlings, free folks, warring houses and the Targaryen banner. Surely you can restore a knight's honor."

Her defense of Jamie had been passionate and extreme. Brienne knew what they didn't. Jamie had an important role to play in the great war to come. They needed him in battle with them. Brienne couldn't tell them, not without revealing the many, many secrets she still held. She could, however, help restore Jamie's honor, allow the world to see him as she did. It was small thanks for having saved her honor and her life.

_The man who killed a king who thought he'd be reborn as a dragon saved a woman who truly brought dragons into the world._

History echoed. Griff had taught her that. During those nights at sea, when he'd been unable to sleep, he'd told her about the great battles in history, the strategies that repeatedly worked and the arrogant mistakes that always led to failure. _Those who didn't learn from history were taught by it_. The key was to know what _had_ happened to understand what _would_ happen. Human nature never changed.

In the end, man was always his own worst enemy.


	16. Strategy Keeper

**THE KEEPER**

Chapter 16 – Strategy Keeper

Those gathered in the _Chamber of the Painted Table_ were silent, Brienne's plea for King Jon to restore Jaime's stolen honor still hung heavy in the air. Daenerys and Jon looked at each other. Finally, Daenerys nodded. Jon nodded back to her.

"Brienne, I'll speak with the Kingsl- Ser Jaime," Jon corrected himself, "after the parlay. It would ring false if I discussed it while we were negotiating with his sister."

Brienne nodded. "Thank you, your Grace.

"Now, for our strategy in King's Landing," Jon continued. "We'll show Cersei the creature we caught and try to achieve a ceasefire with her. We know she's aligned with Euron Greyjoy. He'll use the _Iron Fleet_ to bring over the _Golden Company_."

"No, he won't." A voice spoke from the door.

They all turned to look. Theon Greyjoy stood in the doorway, flanked by Dothraki guards. He was covered in healing bruises but still looked strong and determined.

"Theon," Jon greeted, his voice cold but calm. "You look better. The rest has done you good."

Theon nodded then dropped to his knee. "I don't know which ruler I should kneel to, the queen who my sister allied with or the king who forgave me despite my wrongs."

"You have knelt to us both," Daenerys said. "King Jon and I are allies and we hope to soon gain a ceasefire with Cersei and your uncle."

"He won't do it, your Grace," Theon insisted. "He won't accept kings, queens or ceasefires. My uncle only wants to conquer. He'll use the ceasefire as an opportunity to create dissent or to stab you in the back."

"Arise, Theon and join us as the table," Daenerys commanded.

Theon rose then came into the room. He stopped abruptly and his eyes rounded when he saw the dragons. The dragons, in turn, also rose from their comfortable poses, alert and watchful.

"Come, Theon," Jon urged. "The dragons won't harm you unless you're a threat to Brienne."

Theon remained where he was and swallowed hard, his eyes wide and dark.

"Dragons are very intelligent creatures, Theon." Tyrion explained. "Some say they're smarter than humans, better able to understand human nature. They can sense human intent. They've only met us but they've accepted us because they know we have love, or at least admiration, for Lady Brienne."

"Aye," Jorah agreed, his voice low. "I've been with Khaleesi's dragons since they were born. I've never feared them because they know I love my queen."

"No one with good intent towards our queen fears her dragons," Missandei spoke. "She has an army of thousands, none of whom have ever been harmed by her children."

"Do you have good intent towards Lady Brienne, Theon?" Tyrion asked.

"Yes." Theon blinked then slowly came closer to the table. "Lady Brienne and Podrick saved my life. They saved Sansa's life. I have nothing but gratitude and admiration for them."

Theon smiled at her and Brienne smiled back. Still he hesitated. Brienne pulled Catren into her lap. Podrick, hand shaking, lightly stroked Serdun's back. His hesitant touch wouldn't stop the dragon but the gesture reassured Theon, who took more steps to the table. The guards faded back when Daenerys nodded to them. Theon finally sat in the chair between Tyrion and Davos, near the Iron Islands on the Painted Table.

"Are you sure your uncle won't agree to a ceasefire, Theon?" Jon asked.

It took Theon a moment to tear his gaze away from the Ardayn seated on the table in front of Jon. The king patiently repeated his question to gain Theon's attention. The young man blinked then nodded to Jon.

"Aye, your Grace. He'll agree but he won't honor it," Theon explained, trying not to look at the dragons. "He'll lie, cheat, steal or kill to have his way. He won't honor his alliance with Cersei, either. He'll kill her in her sleep first chance he gets."

"My little birds tell me Cersei now openly sleeps with her brother so she is safe, for now," Varys remarked.

"But not for long," Theon predicted. He shifted to face the King in the North. "My uncle means to be King of Westeros. That's why he took Yara and Ellaria Sands alive. He wants to show all his strength and cunning."

"True," Varys agreed. "He paraded them through the streets of King's Landing before giving Ellaria and Tyene Sands to Cersei. They were his engagement gifts to the queen."

"Engagement gifts?" Brienne repeated. "Ser Jaime allowed this? Doesn't Euron know Cersei is with Ser Jaime?"

"He doesn't care," Theon said. "He doesn't care about Cersei. Once he marries her, he'll take the Iron Throne from her. She won't survive their wedding night."

"So, what do we do?" Jon asked. "Euron will lie to our faces and take the _Iron Fleet_. We need them to bring over the _Golden Company_."

"We have to get Yara back," Theon insisted. "We must kill Euron and his generals, then Queen Yara will command the _Iron Fleet_."

"We're going into parlay for a ceasefire," Jon protested. "We can't turn around and kill Euron."

"Why not?" Theon demanded. "He'll kill us if he can. He may even kill the _Golden Company_ once he has them at sea. They'll be trapped on ships with his men. Ships he controls, men who can hide weapons and destroy another potential ally."

Brienne straightened in her chair. "We can't allow Euron to ferry the _Golden Company_. They'll be fish in a barrel once Euron has them at sea. He can take them hostage or kill them. He knows losing the _Golden Company_ will weaken Cersei's defenses."

"Every day Yara is in his hands makes it less likely she'll survive," Theon continued. "Yara is the only other ruler the Ironborn will accept. We must save her to regain the _Iron Fleet_."

Jon and Daenerys exchanged glances.

"What's your plan?" Tyrion asked.

"We need to create a distraction, something that will lure the generals off the ships," Theon said. "Then my men and I can search for Yara. Once we have her, we'll kill Euron and his generals. There's ten of us here. That should be enough."

"Men are not a problem," Daenerys said. "The Dothraki are the most efficient fighters in the known world. Creating a distraction big enough to draw out Euron's generals will be the issue."

Theon looked around the table, at the five dragons watching him with keen interest. "What about your dragons, your Grace? The dragons terrify even the most hardened Ironborn."

"That's a possibility," Daenerys mused. "Drogon and Rhaegal will be a show of my power. It will make an impressive entrance for me to arrive on dragon. Perhaps they'll be enough to unsettle the Ironborn generals."

"What about these dragons?" Theon asked.

Jon shook his head. "These dragons are too small to risk taking into the parlay. They'll remain at Dragonstone with Brienne."

"Your Grace, I must attend the parlay," Brienne insisted. "You may need me to help persuade Ser Jaime."

"The dragons won't stay behind without you," Jon pointed out.

Brienne thought for a moment. "They might, if they can have someone they trust." She rose, Catren still in her arms and crossed to the door. "Allwyn, māzigon naejot issa."

Everyone watched as Allwyn, sleepy and comfortable, looked at Brienne then up at Selwyn. The dragon made a sound between a squawk and a squeak. Brienne repeated the command. Allwyn reluctantly left Selwyn's lap and flew to Brienne's side.

"Sȳrī gaomagon, Allwyn," Brienne praised, kneeling to put Catren down beside Allwyn. "Father, let's try a test. Try to call Ardayn to you. Use the same words I did to call Allwyn."

Selwyn frowned but nodded. He garbled the unfamiliar words. Ardayn tilted its head and looked at Brienne's father. Daenerys tried to call the dragon. Ardayn squawked but didn't move. Selwyn repeated the command. This time Ardayn flew across to him. The dragon squawked again and looked at Selwyn.

"Sȳrī gaomagon, Ardayn," Brienne praised. "Father, call Catren."

The command was less awkward this time as Selwyn repeated it. Still, it took two times before Catren finally flew from Brienne's side to settle beside Ardayn. Allwyn squawked and ruffled its wings then flew back to Selwyn's lap without command. Brienne came back to her seat.

"Daughter, why did you have me call them?" Selwyn leaned back to allow Allwyn to settle in his lap. "Why did we move the dragons around?"

"I believe they'll stay with you, Father," Brienne explained. "You and I share blood and bond. We even look alike. The dragons listened to you, once they understood your command. They've accepted you as they accepted me, unconditionally. We have a few more days before the parlay for them to become even more comfortable. I can leave them here with you and Drogon."

"Drogon?" Daenerys repeated. "I want to ride him into the parlay, as a show of strength and to try to create a distraction for Theon."

"We can't lock the little dragons in cages, your Grace," Brienne insisted. "They'll want to swim and fly. My father can comfort them but they need Drogon to protect them. We can't put them at risk."

Daenerys thought for a moment. "Very well. I'll take Rhaegal to the parlay, if the little dragons will stay with your father. We can test them by having you leave for the parlay before us. I agree your passionate belief in the Kingsl-," she paused, "Ser Jaime, may help bring him to our side."

Brienne looked to Selwyn. "Is that alright with you, Father?"

"I'm agreeable." Selwyn looked at Catren and Ardayn in front of him then down at Allwyn. "This little one seems quite settled in my lap. It's best they stay here. King's Landing may not be safe for them."

Brienne smiled. All the dragons were now on the south east side of the map, clustered around the Stormlands, Dragonstone and Dorne, by Brienne, Podrick, Selwyn and Daenerys. Brienne didn't miss the way Varys, Theon, Jon and Davos relaxed now that the dragons weren't so close. The natural fear of dragons affected everyone who wasn't used to them. Missandei, Tyrion and Jorah were calm, as they understood the dragons' intelligence and emotional depths.

"There are other threats we haven't discussed, your Grace," Varys said.

"More?" Daenerys sighed. "How many more?"

"Many, many more," Varys answered. "Some we know, some we have hints and others we have not yet learned. We must be vigilant."

"And we must be unified," Jon added. "As my father always said 'when the snows fall and the white winds blow, the lone wolf dies, but the pack survives.' The living must band together. We cannot allow our personal differences to overcome our common goal of survival."

Daenerys nodded. "What's the next threat, Lord Tyrion?"

Tyrion pulled a scroll from his pocket. "I sent a raven to Tycho Nestoris at the Iron Bank. I was sent this reply. 'The golden blood flows through waters and storm. The honorable man is a rose without thorns.' The initials at the bottom are HS and there's no seal."

Tyrion passed the scroll around the table. Jon took it and studied it for a moment before passing it on to Jorah.

"HS can stand for Harry Strickland," Jorah said, studying the scroll. "He's the current leader of the _Golden Company_."

"Aye, if it is, then I know what the scroll means," Jon said. "Waters and Storm are the surnames of bastards, as is Snow in the North. Their men want titles and lands in the Stormlands and the Crownlands."

"That makes sense, Khaleesi," Jorah agreed. "Your brother Rhaegar's strongest allies were in the regions closest to King's Landing. They were cast out or lost lands and titles when Robert took the Iron Throne."

"Then a rose without thorns would be the Reach," Tyrion surmised. "Harry Strickland is asking for Highgarden in exchange for fighting honorably."

"Honorably?" Brienne asked. "What does that mean? Why wouldn't they fight with honor?"

"They'll fight as needed but won't harm women or children," Daenerys explained. "I won't tolerate rapists or slavers in my ranks."

"It could be a good decision to place the leader of the _Golden Company_ in the Reach," Vary said. "It may need a strong military presence to protect it."

Daenerys studied the scroll when it came to her. "Why is that?"

"Dorne is selecting a new prince, your Grace." Varys pressed his hands together. "And gathering its armies."

"Isn't that good?" Daenerys asked. "Dorne was our ally."

"No, my Queen, Ellaria Sands was our ally," Tyrion corrected. "She made as many enemies as allies when she and the Sand Snakes murdered Princes Doran and Trystane. We don't know if the new prince will join us or wait out this war."

"Dorne wouldn't be gathering their armies if they plan to wait out the war," Jorah pointed out.

"Perhaps their spies have informed them of how weak Cersei is," Varys suggested. "The Dornish have hated Tywin Lannister since the death of their beloved Princess Elia. She and her children died in the sacking he ordered."

"So much so that Prince Oberyn Martell fought in a trial by combat for me against Ser Gregor Clegane." Tyrion agreed. "Not because he believed in my innocence but because he wanted to kill Ser Gregor. Ser Gregor admitted to killing Princess Elia and her children during that sacking. Sadly, Ser Gregor killed Prince Oberyn during the fight."

"Do you think Dorne means to march on King's Landing?" Daenerys asked. "They want to take the capital from Cersei?"

"Why would they, knowing you plan to take it yourself?" Tyrion studied the Painted Table. "A better strategy would be to take Highgarden, your Grace. It supplies most of the food for King's Landing. They can control the food supplies and hold the most prosperous keep in the southern regions. It would give them far more leverage when you take the Iron Throne."

"Dorne may not even do that, if they know there's a strong military leader, and a strong army, protecting Highgarden and Casterly Rock beyond it," Jorah suggested.

Daenerys sighed. "Casterly Rock is not much of a prize. Cersei left it open for us."

"The Rock may still be useful," Tyrion said thoughtfully. "I sent a raven to Grey Worm. I asked him to check out a few things for me."

"Plus, your Grace, people still live there," Missandei reminded her. "They didn't leave with the Lannister army."

"Yes," Daenerys agreed. "The people need stability and protection. Cersei may have abandoned them but House Targaryen will not. Inform this HS I agree to his terms."

"Yes, my Queen," Tyrion nodded.

"Back to Dorne, do we know anything about this possible prince?" Jon asked. "Is he from House Martell? Are there any trueborn Martells left?"

"A few, your Grace," Varys said. "There's also House Dayne. It's as noble as House Martell, with many marriages between them."

"There's an interesting story about House Dayne, King Jon," Tyrion said. "Involving your father and Arthur Dayne, the last _Sword of the Morning_."

"What about them?" Jon growled.

"After Ned Stark defeated Arthur Dayne at the _Tower of Joy_, he took the Dayne ancestral sword, _Dawn_, back to Starfall, Arthur's family home. The sword is supposed to have magical properties. It selects its own wielder." Tyrion explained.

Jon shook his head. "So? My father was the most honorable man I know. Why wouldn't he take a valuable sword back to the family who should have it? It was the right thing to do. I offered to return _Longclaw_ to Ser Jorah when we went north of the Wall."

Jorah nodded and the two men exchanged a look of understanding. Tyrion studied the young King in the North and frowned thoughtfully.

"They say Arthur's sister, Ashara, killed herself when she learned of her brother's death," Tyrion continued. "A strong, beautiful woman with her whole life ahead of her, suddenly overcome by grief. Then Ned Stark returned to Winterfell with a baby boy. Interesting, isn't it?"

Jon snorted. "Are you saying Ashara Dayne could be my mother?"

"It's possible," Tyrion suggested.

"Even if it was true, it would mean nothing," Jon insisted. "I'd still be a bastard. They wouldn't choose a bastard for the next prince."

"Why not?" Davos asked. "We chose a bastard for our king."

"It would certainly simplify things if they did," Tyrion noted. "The King in the North hand-in-hand with the Prince of Dorne, the perfect blend of ice and fire."

"I'm not the next Prince of Dorne nor the prince who was promised. Discussing prophecies has made you think foolish thoughts. Those prophecies are just stories passed down through the ages," Jon said. "No matter how much we want it, Azor Ahai won't come to battle against the Night King. _We_ must guard the realms of men."

"Prophecy is like a half-trained mule," Tyrion nodded in agreement. "It looks as though it might be useful, but the moment you trust in it, it kicks you in the head."

"If prophecy isn't useful, how about facts?" Podrick suggested. "What do we know about this Night King? What are his powers?"

"We know he can raise the dead," Jon offered.

"Didn't you say his generals, these White Walkers, raised the dead?" Selwyn asked. "A group of the dead, the whites, shattered when a general was destroyed by Valyrian steel sword?"

"Yes, it's a good battle strategy," Jorah explained. "The whites follow whoever raised them. The generals have their own troops while the Night King raises foot soldiers at will."

"The whites can be destroyed by fire, dragonglass and Valyrian steel. The White Walkers and the Night King are impervious to fire, even dragonfire," Tyrion summarized. "They can only be killed with dragonglass and Valyrian steel."

"We don't know if they can be killed with dragonglass nor what can kill the Night King," Jon cautioned. "We only confirmed the generals can be killed with Valyrian steel."

"We need to gather all the Valyrian steel swords in Westeros," Selwyn said. "That should be the first order once you reach a ceasefire with Cersei."

"There aren't very many," Davos sighed. "A handful at most."

"How can that be?" Selwyn wrinkled his brow. "There were thousand made before the Doom of Valyria. They cannot be destroyed so they must exist somewhere in the world. Surely there must be hundreds of them in the great houses of Westeros."

Brienne's fingers curled around _Oathkeeper_. Was this why Jaime needed to keep _Widow's Wail_ close? Would he need it for the upcoming war?

"Many of those blades have been lost or hidden." Jon's voice was heavy. "I carry _Longclaw_ but Lord Stark's blade, _Ice_, was stolen after his death."

Brienne looked at Tyrion. The dwarf looked back at her with a calm, expressionless face. Did he know the fate of _Ice_? Was he aware Tywin Lannister had re-forged the greatsword? Did he know Brienne carried a part of _Ice_ while Jaime carried the rest?

"What about the dragon?" Selwyn asked quietly.

Daenerys looked around the table. "Which one?"

"The one you lost, your Grace," Selwyn clarified. "What can the Night King do to your dragon?"

Daenerys's eyes widened. "Viserion is dead. He fell through the ice. These things cannot swim. The Night King can do nothing to my child!"

"Khaleesi, Viserion was a creature of magic," Jorah explained gently. "We don't know all of the Night King's powers or how they interact with other magic. We should at least prepare for the possibility he may raise Viserion as a white."

The Dragon Queen's face drained of all color and she lost the ability to speak. She opened and closed her mouth but no words came out.

"I don't think that's likely, your Grace," Tyrion comforted her. "A white can be killed by fire, dragonglass and Valyrian steel. Viserion could be easily killed in a dragon fight or even with a spear tipped in dragonglass."

"A spear thrown by an ordinary man can't pierce a dragon's scales," Brienne protested. "Only the Night King has that magical strength."

"No, a ballista can shoot a spear strong enough to pierce dragon scales," Tyrion informed her. "Drogon was injured by such a bolt in the fight on the Gold Road."

"What?" Brienne's outrage woke the drowsy dragons, who all sat up alertly, even Allwyn who has been asleep in Selwyn's lap.

"I'll inform the Night's Watch to be vigilant," Jon said. "We need to build ballistas and spears tipped in dragonglass."

"What if the Night King raises the dragon as a White Walker?" Podrick ventured. "Wouldn't that be a stronger weapon? A dragon that can't be killed by dragonfire, maybe not even dragonglass. We don't have enough Valyrian steel to attach to spears that may or may not hit their targets."

Daenerys gasped. Jon gave her a reassuring nod.

"The waters are fathoms deep. If the Night King could reach Viserion, wouldn't he have already turned the dragon? We'd know very quickly if Viserion was flying again," Jon insisted. "He's not a juvenile, like these five dragons. He'd be seen."

Daenerys released her breath and sagged against Gallan. Clearly the thought of her beloved child be turned into the undead had upset her.

"So, it's just a matter of time, then?" Selwyn asked.

"What do you mean?" Daenerys demanded. "Viserion is at the bottom of the sea. The Night King and his Army of the Dead cannot swim. They can't reach or raise my dragon."

Selwyn's expression was gentle and pitying. "You've never seen what happens to a dead body once it's been thrown into the sea, have you, your Grace?"

"No." Daenerys shook her head. "What happens?"

"The Mother have mercy," Davos, the only other person to live his life by the sea, whispered.

"What?" Tyrion demanded. "What happens?"

"The body putrefies then rises," Davos explained. "All dead bodies rise eventually."

"When? How long does it take for the dead to rise from the sea?" Jon demanded.

"It depends on how cold the water is and the body," Davos continued. "The colder the water, the longer it takes for the body to rise."

"This is a dragon," Tyrion reminded them. "A dragon made of fire and magic. Are you saying it's only a matter of time before the Night King raises Viserion and flies over the Wall, magic of the Old Gods be damned?"

"If the Night King can fly over the wall, all the realms of men are in danger." Jon's voice shook. "Destroying half his army was a useless gesture. He and his generals can fly anywhere and raise the dead at will. We don't have enough men to uncover every grave and burn the dead. If Viserion becomes a White Walker, even the other dragons won't be able to stop him."

Daenerys buried her head in Gallan's neck and sobbed. Missandei patted her queen's back and murmured to her. Everyone else looked at Daenerys and each other in growing horror. Brienne's fingers physically twitched with the need to take quill to scroll and warn Griff. The desperate desire to talk to him, hear his calming voice, be reassured he had a plan for this contingency too, throbbed in her body like a physical ache.

For five thousand years, the magic of the Wall and the Old Gods had held back the Night King. But the Gods knew men were their own worst enemies. Their competitive natures too often overcame logic and reason. Men would undo even divine protections in their desire for greatness. As a result of Daenerys's hubris, her mistaken belief in her dragons' invincibility, the limits of the Old God's magic would be breached. The evil the Wall had contained for thousands of years would soon have the means to spread his horror into the realms of men.

This was worse than her greatest fears. Brienne thought her duty was to protect the five from the wars of men. She hadn't understood the real war wasn't man's usual petty battles for thrones and titles. This was a war for life itself. Worse, they were no longer fighting only the Night King and the Army of the Dead. They were now fighting time itself.

Even the Gods couldn't hold back time.


	17. Dragonpit Keeper

**THE KEEPER**

Chapter 17 – Dragonpit Keeper

Brienne looked around as she entered the massive, crumbling Dragonpit. It was a horrifying reminder of the fate of dragons past, withering away in this ugly structure. She recalled Griff telling her about this place.

"_They locked up the dragons in pits, denied them sunshine and freedom, limited their movement and kept them from flight. Like any chained creature, they weakened in captivity. The kings feared they couldn't control the dragons so they suppressed them, causing the dragons born to become smaller and weaker. Finally, the dragon eggs no longer hatched. The so-called wise kings were so bloated with their own power, they diminished the magic of the dragons. They forgot kingship is a duty, not a right."_

The Targaryen kings had taught their dragons to fight in their wars, then tried to contain them once they'd learned too well. The kings thought their position allowed them to reign over all creatures, even those made of magic. Their hunger for power and control destroyed the very thing they wanted most, the dragons themselves.

Now, the Gods had given humanity another chance to create a world where man and magic could co-exist. Human nature was a powerful and often destructive instinct. Few men had been taught to channel and control it, use it for the good of all men. Kings and Queens should make decisions to protect their people from their own worst impulses and ambitions. But who would protect the people when their monarchs didn't bother to check themselves?

Jon walked past her, breaking her from her thoughts. She lengthened her stride to walk with him and Davos to the awning on the right side, as representatives of the North. Bronn pulled Podrick away, urging the young squire to join him for a drink. Brienne nodded in agreement. Podrick nodded back meaningfully. Good. He hadn't forgotten his secret mission. Podrick staggered under the weight of Bronn's arm as the recently anointed knight dragged him from the pit.

Brienne choose the chair furthest from the others, giving her the best vantage point to watch their expressions, try to understand their intentions without relying on their false promises. Across the way, Daenerys's team gathered. Varys and Missandei sat quietly while Tyrion, Theon and Jorah remained standing, looking around the vast, decaying structure.

Qhono and the bloodriders, standing tall, dark and fearless, studied the Lannister guards posted around the space. The guards were tense, hands flexing on their swords as their gazes scanned the sky, instead of watching the deadly Dothraki warriors before them. Sandor went to speak with Tyrion. Their exchange was halted when the Lannister representatives arrived in the pit. Gregor led the party, with Cersei, Jaime, Qyburn, Euron and the Queensguards behind them.

Automatically, Brienne's gaze went to Jaime. He kept his head facing straight ahead but his eyes watched her. He looked older and tired, new grey hairs appeared in the darkening blond, new lines creased his face and new grimness pulled down the corners of his mouth. The last few months had been terrible for him. His sister had used wildfire to destroy the sept, his father and daughter had been murdered, his last remaining child had taken his own life, he'd come face-to-face with the brother who'd murdered their father and now Euron was making advances to his lover.

Brienne shifted to study Cersei and jerked back from the sudden jolt. Cersei was staring directly at _her_, malevolence glittering in her wildfire green eyes. While Jaime clearly showed the stress of the past few months, Cersei looked almost untouched; her skin smooth, her posture perfect, her body lithe and feminine. Only her hair, cropped close to her head, betrayed the image of the elegant, regal queen.

Sandor went up to the Lannister group. Gregor stepped forward to meet him.

"Remember me? Yeah, you do," Sandor said. "You're even fucking uglier than what I am now. What did they do to you? Doesn't matter. It's not how it ends for you, brother. You know who's coming for you. You've always known."

Sandor walked away, down the staircase to the level below the stone. Brienne saw Gregor's red eyes, grey tinged skin and jerky movements. What had they done to him? The head of Cersei's Queensguard didn't even look human anymore. What kind of creature had he become?

"Where is she?" Cersei demanded.

"She'll be here soon," Tyrion promised.

"Didn't she travel with you?" Cersei didn't try to hide her sneering contempt for her brother or his queen.

They waited for another tense moment. Cersei again looked at Brienne then to Jaime. Her eyes narrowed slightly. Jaime stared straight ahead, eyes and jaw hard. The thunder of a dragon's cry broke the new silence. They all, except Cersei, rose to look up at the sky. Some of the tension eased out of Brienne when there was only one large dragon flying towards them. That meant Drogon was still at Dragonstone, guarding the little dragons. Daenerys rode Rhaegal into the pit.

The terrified Lannister guards moved from their positions as Rhaegal landed. The dragon roared, announcing itself and its dominance. It stepped down into the pit and lowered its head. Brienne watched Jon and Tyrion turn back to gage Cersei's reaction. Cersei remained blank-faced, trying to appear undaunted. Everyone else watched Daenerys dismount but Brienne continued to study Cersei. The current Queen of Westeros drew in a deep breath and briefly closed her eyes. She was as terrified of the dragon as everyone else but far better at hiding it.

Rhaegal took off in a perfect vertical lift, causing dirt to fly around them. The awnings and the Lannister bannisters flapped wildly. Daenerys took her time to calmly walk across the stone floor and join them at the parlay. Cersei's expression was as hard as the stones beneath her feet as she watched the young conquer settle amongst her advisors and guards.

"We've been here for some time," Cersei hissed.

Daenerys was unruffled. "My apologies."

How could they be so calm? They weren't meeting for tea; they were trying to save the realm from a threat greater than them all. Their posturing could spoil the attempts for a ceasefire even before they began. Brienne gripped the arms of her chair to keep herself still. Their cold, too-polite barbs were an unnecessary and possibly counterproductive exchange.

"We are all facing a unique –" Tyrion began before being cut off by Euron.

"Theon," Euron called. "I have your sister. If you don't submit to me, here and now, I'll kill her."

Theon's mouth thinned, eyes burning with hatred. He looked over to Jon and something changed in his expression. Some of the tension smoothed away. Brienne looked at Jon, too. The King in the North nodded ever so slightly and Theon relaxed. Theon trusted Jon would remember Yara and help save her. Brienne relaxed with him as her anxious brain remembered Rhaegal wasn't here to intimidate just Cersei. The dragon was a warning to Euron and the Ironborn generals of what awaited them if they choose to betray the Dragon Queen.

Brienne turned her attention back to Tyrion in time to see him exchange glances with his brother. Jaime shook his head. Tyrion grimaced and nodded in silent agreement. Brienne's breath caught. They were communicating. Despite the anger and disappointment the brothers felt towards each other, they had started to reconnect. Jaime wasn't the stupidest Lannister, he simply lived by a personal code of honor few people understood. Brienne understood his code, Tyrion understood Jaime's heart. Together, they would reach him. Her chest tightened again when Euron insulted Tyrion. Jaime immediately rose to his brother's defense, icily suggesting the Ironborn king sit down.

"Sit down or leave," Cersei echoed.

For all her impulsiveness and cruel ambition, Cersei wasn't stupid, either. She looked at her brothers and saw the wall between them crumbling. The current Queen of Westeros didn't order Euron because she agreed with Jaime, she spoke to regain control of the parlay. She was trying to seal the growing cracks allowing the brothers to finally see each other as they really were. Jaime was commander of her armies and her greatest source of support. Losing him would crush both her defenses and her spirit.

Tyrion finished his speech with minimal interruption. Cersei appeared unimpressed. Sandor came up the stairs with a wooden crate on his back. Everyone leaned forward when he opened the crate but nothing happened. Sandor kicked the crate onto its side. A horror beyond Brienne's imagining rushed out, running straight for Cersei.

Instinctively, Brienne jumped up and unsheathed _Oathkeeper,_ her blood pounding in reaction to the white. Fortunately, Sandor had the creature on a chain and pulled it back before it reached Cersei. The queen cowered in her chair while Euron and Jaime jumped to their feet. The creature fell, arose, then ran back at Sandor. Sandor pulled out his sword and sliced the white in half.

Though it was in two pieces, both parts still moved. Brienne had heard about the horrors beyond the Wall but had never seen them. The creature was visible bones with chunks of rotting flesh and hair. Her hand tightened on _Oathkeeper_ and the blood pounded in her ears. Jon demonstrated how to kill the white with fire.

"If we don't win this fight then that," Jon pointed to the white, "is the fate of every person in the world." Jon stabbed the white with dragonglass. "There is only one war that matters and that is the great war. And it is here."

Euron strode over to the remains of the white. "Can they swim?"

"No," Jon said.

Brienne struggled to keep her face expressionless as Euron made his grand exit speech. She saw the way he glanced at Cersei before he left. Brienne looked over to Jon. He held Theon's gaze and nodded subtly. Theon nodded back with an equally brief gesture. Brienne studied Cersei. The queen looked smug as she called Euron a coward. Jon glanced at Brienne. They both knew the pair was only acting. Euron was still on Cersei's side, prepared to take the _Iron Fleet_ to Essos on her command.

At first, it seemed Cersei understood the terrible threat but then she returned to focusing on her own blinding ambition, her war against Daenerys. Cersei would only agree to the ceasefire if Jon not ally with Daenerys. Cersei was still fixed on conquest, of trying to keep and even expand her control beyond King's Landing. Jon refused.

"Queen Daenerys has already fought for us," Jon explained. "She rode into battle and helped us slaughter half the Night King's army. I gave her my word the North would bend the knee to her if she defeated this menace. I'm true to my word. I will not betray my promise to her."

"If you've already killed off half their army then why do you need us?" Cersei asked, suspicion clear in her voice. "If you've already agreed to give her the North, why did you come here?"

"Because the Night King's powers are growing," Jon said. "I've received ravens informing me he's begun to raise the dead even beyond the wall. It's not enough to beat him back. We must destroy him completely."

Brienne froze, almost light-headed at the news. The Night King was growing _stronger_? Jon must have gotten the news after she and Podrick left Dragonstone. What could cause the Night King to gain power? Dear Gods! Had they, in their efforts to diminish his army, done something to _cause_ the surge in power?

"There is nothing left to discuss." Cersei stood up. "The dead will come for the North first. Enjoy dealing with them. We'll deal with whatever's left of you."

She began to walk out of the parlay, her entourage behind her. Brienne watched, open-mouthed, as Jaime followed his sister. She hurried down to meet him.

"Ser Jaime," she called.

Jaime continued walking but spoke back to her. "It's good to see you. I imagine the next time will be across a battlefield."

She continued after him. "We both saw what just happened. We both saw that…thing."

"Yes, and I'm not looking forward to seeing more of them." Jaime started down the steps. "I'm loyal to the Queen and you're loyal to Sansa and her dolt brother."

Brienne grabbed his arm to stop him. "Oh, fuck loyalty."

Jaime stopped and stared at her. "Fuck loyalty?

"This goes beyond houses and honors and oaths." Brienne took a deep breath. "We need your help. We need _you_."

"I'm loyal to my queen." Jaime spoke through gritted teeth. "I pledged an oath to the throne, for the white cloak. It's all I have left."

"It's not all you have, Ser Jaime," Brienne insisted. "You have so much more. You _are_ so much more."

"While you are less." Cersei also stopped. "Less than a man, less than a woman, a desperate, pathetic fool flitting from one master to another. An insult to those who have to look upon you."

"Cersei!" Jaime hissed. "Stop it."

Brienne's blood pounded in her veins, so hard she could hear it in her ears. "Whatever my faults may be, I'm not willfully blind. I won't put my personal feelings ahead of the good of the realm. You must understand the terrible fate coming for us all."

Cersei stalked closer, Gregor at her back. The Queensguard also turned around, ready to defend their queen.

"I understand perfectly well," Cersei snarled. "I understand my brother gave you more attention than you've ever received from a man. You think he has feelings for you? He does not. I'm his queen, I'm his sister and I'm his family."

"I'm family, too." Tyrion came to the top of the steps. "You forgot that when you falsely accused me of Joffery's murder."

"You murdered our father!" Cersei elegant façade cracked as she faced her hated little brother.

"You murdered our uncle. You murdered our cousin." Tyrion's eyes flashed with equal outrage. "You murdered Tommen."

Cersei screamed with bloodlust and flew up the steps so fast Gregor couldn't keep up with her. Jaime was a step behind her and caught her before she could rake Tyrion's face with her clawed hands. Tyrion skipped back, out of her reach. The Queensguard spread out behind her, leaning back and forth, unsure if they should help their queen or stay out of her way.

"Cersei, calm yourself," Jaime wrapped his arms around her and picked her up off the ground.

"Kill him!" Cersei screamed. "Ser Gregor, I order you to kill him!"

Gregor pulled out his sword, his red eyes blank and expressionless. Tyrion backstepped rapidly. Brienne, Jorah, Theon and Sandor withdrew their swords. They moved into position between Gregor and Tyrion. The Lannister soldiers left their posts to assist their queen.

"No! Stop!" Jaime ordered.

It was unclear if he was talking to Cersei, Gregor or the guards. The guards stopped where they were but his words had no effect on Cersei or Gregor. Cersei twisted in Jaime's arms and Gregor advanced. Jon came to join them but didn't unsheathe _Longclaw_.

"This isn't helping!" Jon's gruff voice rose over Cersei's vengeful cries. "Everyone, calm down and put away your swords!"

His command was lost on the furious queen as she twisted and kicked back at Jaime, charged on bloodlust and grief. Then Euron ran back into the pit, followed by his generals.

"Take cover!" The self-proclaimed King of the Iron Islands screamed.

Immediately, the already spooked Lannister guards turned to the Ironborn men and attacked. The clash of steel against steel broke through the blind rage controlling Cersei. She turned to see the fight, still held off the ground in Jaime's arms. Brienne, Jorah, Theon and Sandor held their swords ready, between Gregor and Tyrion.

"Ser Gregor!" Cersei called. "Protect me!"

Gregor turned away from them and went to stand in front of Cersei and Jaime.

"We're not the enemy!" Euron screamed, even while slashing at Lannister guards. "They're coming! Take cover!"

They all heard it then, the roar of a dragon. Everyone stopped fighting, looking up wildly for the source of the blood-curdling sound. Brienne looked up at Rhaegal, flying so high above them, it looked as small as a bird. The roar came again, closer this time, accompanied by the squawking of younger dragons. Jon looked at Brienne, his mouth falling open in shock.

"Protect your queen!" Jorah yelled back to Qhono. "Protct yeri khaleesi!"

Immediately, the bloodriders circled Daenerys and Missandei, kicking away chairs. The women rose from their seats and the Dothraki tightened their circle, weapons drawn. Varys slid behind them, ducking down to make himself appear smaller.

"Put away your weapons!" Jorah ran back to the awning, Theon only steps behind him.

Brienne sheathed _Oathkeeper_ and turned to Sandor. "Put your sword away!"

Sandor shook his head. "Why?"

"Dragons!" Euron screamed, as he cut down a Lannister guard. "More dragons! Take cover!"

Everyone ran for cover, except Brienne. Jaime put Cersei down, grabbed her hand and ran with her back to their awning. Gregor and the Queensguard followed after them. Gregor was big but slower so he was the last man under the covering, positioning himself in front of Cersei's chair. Jaime pushed Cersei behind the chair and shoved her down to her knees. He looked around.

"Tyrion! Brienne!" Jaime shouted.

"I'm okay," Tyrion called, as he skirted around a chair under Daenerys's awning.

The Dothraki put their weapons away but kept a tight circle around their queen. Jorah stood in front of the chairs, next to Qhono, hiding Daenerys from view. Davos grabbed Sandor, who looked around wildly, as he stumbled back to Jon's awning. Jon yanked the sword out of the confused man's hand and threw it behind their tent.

The injured and dead Lannister guards and Ironborn men lay where they fell. Euron and the rest of the Ironborn generals pushed and shoved at each other, and the remaining guards, as they all fought to throw themselves down the stairs, into the underground pit.

"Brienne, take cover," Jaime yelled.

She looked over to him. Jaime tried to run to her but Cersei had his hand in both of hers. Jaime twisted in his sister's grip, dragging her along, and looked at Brienne, wild-eyed.

"Brienne, come here!" Jaime screamed.

He broke free from Cersei and tried to dodge around Gregor.

"No!" Cersei screamed. "Ser Gregor, stop him!"

Gregor grabbed Jaime's shoulder with such force, Jaime winced. Cersei seized his hand again, holding him so tightly her knuckles were white.

"No, Jaime, stay with me," the queen ordered.

Still Jaime fought to free himself. "Brienne, take cover! The dragon will burn you alive!"

The dragons flew over the pit, the five grouped together in an arrow formation, Catren in the lead, with Gallan and Allwyn behind, followed by Serdun and Ardayn. Drogon flew above the young dragons and roared. Rhaegal roared in return and swooped down from the sky. The wind caused by their wings buffeted Brienne, tossing her hair, which she normally wore ruthlessly combed back, around and into her face. The young dragons began to circle, squawking loudly.

What had caused them to come to the parlay? They'd seemed fine when she's left with Podrick two days earlier. Allwyn hadn't even moved from her father's lap when they'd gone. Jon would have told her if the dragons were restless when he left Dragonstone. Had Drogon or the five been upset when Daenerys left with Rhaegal? Worse, had the Gods known the parlay wouldn't work and sent them?

Men sacrificed their own lives, and other's lives, for their foolish pride. Cersei held King's Landing by the most tenuous grip. The slighted tremor could tumble her from her precious Iron Throne. Yet she refused to help, possibly condemning her people, those whom she should protect, to a horror that could engulf the entire Seven Kingdoms.

"Brienne!" Jaime screamed again, breaking her out of her thoughts. "Come to me!"

Brienne looked up at the dragons, watched them circle above her, never breaking formation. The Night King was growing stronger but those who needed to defend the realm continued to focus on their own needs. The world would be destroyed if the Night King's powers continued to grow. The dragons might be all that stood between the people and the upcoming darkness. The Gods had decided on her course of action. They had shown the dragons to the world, expecting her to protect them. She was a dutiful knight, the instrument of their will. She would execute their commands faithfully.

She cupped her hands around her mouth. "Zaldrīzoti, māzigon naejot issa!"

The five dropped down from the sky, one at a time. Brienne braced herself for the impact of the dragons throwing themselves at her but there was none. Catren landed first, in front of Brienne, but didn't try to jump into her arms. The dragon faced outwards, hissing in warning. Allwyn dropped to Catren's right. But instead of facing Brienne, the dragon faced outward. Gallan took position next, back and left, also facing outward. Only then did Ardayn and Serdun, still circling above them, land. They placed themselves at Brienne's back, also facing away from her.

Brienne turned in a circle, staring at the five. The dragons surrounded her, puffed and aggressive, wings spread to show they full, impressive stature. They weren't pressing into her, cuddling and demanding her attention, they were _guarding_ her. Griff had taught them battle strategy or, at least, defensive strategy. They knew to circle first, then drop one at a time, still watching their surroundings, before all landing. It probably helped that Drogon and Rhaegal were close enough to add their far superior fire power if necessary, but the five were prepared to protect her even without them.

Brienne looked around the pit. Daenerys's people watched calmly, unafraid of the dragons. Jon and Davos held Sandor's arms but the bigger man was too dumbstruck to do anything but stare. Brienne brushed her hair back but it fell forward again. Fuck it. The God's hadn't chosen her to be their warrior because she was the most beautiful. They'd chosen her because they knew she'd do what needed to be done.

Brienne turned to look at the Lannister tent. The Queensguard were a shivering, shaking mess, standing behind their queen instead of in front of her. Gregor was the only Queensguard standing in front of Cersei. Qyburn sat still in his chair, squinting as if he couldn't believe what his eyes were showing him. Cersei knelt on the ground, mouth open, eyes blank as she _refused_ to believe what she saw.

Jaime, on the other hand, understood and accepted what he was seeing. His whole body sagged and his mouth opened and closed without words. His eyes were so dark and shadowed, they appeared haunted, his face blank of expression. He was lost in memories of horrors he'd already seen.

The little dragons weren't safe exposed like this. No one was while they were here. An attack on them would result in Drogon and Rhaegal burning King's Landing to the ground. The Lannister guards were already primed by the fight with the Ironborn generals, their swords dripping with blood. She had to get the dragons to a safe place, away from people with blooded blades and deadly intentions. But where could she take them? The _Iron Fleet_ was docked in the Blackwater Bay. The Ironborn fighters, also tense and scared, wouldn't hesitate to raise their swords against the five. Drogon would incinerate their ships as easily as it had the pirates' armada. Even the five would attack if they thought the Ironborn had raised their swords against Brienne.

That meant she would have to take the dragons into the city. Where was there a place safe for the dragons to stay but large enough so they didn't feel caged or threatened? It suddenly came to her, the one place in King's Landing that was large and safe enough for the small dragons. It was also where rulers commanded attention. Brienne had to get Cersei's and Jaime's attention and focus it on their true goal. She had to get _everyone's_ attention. The threat they refused to accept wouldn't stop because of their blind ignorance or selfish ambitions. The entire realm was at risk. She had to make them see there was far more at stake than egos, crowns and thrones. That was exactly what she would do.

"Sōvegon, zaldrīzoti!" Brienne commanded.

The dragons rose, one at a time, ensuring Brienne was under their protection as they took flight. Brienne walked carefully around the bodies strewn on the ground. The sooner the dragons were out of the way, the sooner help would arrive for the injured. Everyone would calm once the dragons were removed. And the dragons would relax when they were away from the blood and aggression souring the air in the pit.

Once clear of the prison that had doomed dragons of the past, she strode towards the heart of King's Landing. The five flew in an arrow pattern high above her head, far out of the reach of the people running to or away from their balconies and climbing onto roofs. A dark shadow covered her. Brienne looked up at Drogon and Rhaegal hovering over even higher up, guarding the young dragons as they guarded her. The larger dragons' wings cast a shadow so wide, it seemed all of Rhaenys's Hill fell into shade.

People cried out as she walked down the Street of the Sisters, alongside Flea Bottom, towards the center of the city. It was a wave of sound that washed outwards, quiet whimpers close to her then building as the whispers turned to screams further away. Some people froze where they were, either terrified or awestruck. Others ran away, clearing Brienne's path. Some even fell to their knees or bowed, calling out for the Dragon Queen.

They thought she was Daenerys, coming to take the Iron Throne from their hated Queen Cersei. Brienne had blonde hair, Targaryen blood and, of course, dragons at her back, but she was no conqueror. Her desire was to serve, not to rule. She was the Gods' warrior, an instrument of their will. They wanted her to create a force strong enough to defeat the Night King and his Army of the Dead. Cersei and Euron refused to listen, to look beyond their own ambitions and desires. It was up to her to _make_ them listen.

The Gold Cloaks met her when she arrived at the Guildhall of the Alchemists. She could see the ruins of the Great Sept of Baelor beyond it. A sharp left turn would lead her to the Red Keep, the capital of the Seven Kingdoms. The Gold Cloaks were out in force, but they were sweating and shaking, half of them so frightened they could barely hold their swords steady.

"Put down your weapons. The dragons will not hurt you unless you attack first." Brienne raised her voice to be heard by the masses surrounding them. "Put down your weapons and let me pass peaceably. I mean you no harm. I'm trying to protect the citizens of King's Landing."

People surround them, silent and watchful. Brienne stood her full six-foot, three-inch height, sure in her mission. The guards, already wavering, looked around at the gathering crowd, at the awe and fear on their faces, then at the dragons overhead. The Gold Cloaks threw down their swords and backed away from Brienne.

Brienne nodded and turned for the Red Keep. The dragons protected her from the air, while bedraggled and undernourished citizens followed hesitantly behind her, keeping far back from the dragons. Even higher up in the sky, Rhaegal roared. Drogon hovered over the young dragons, while Rhaegal flew ahead to the Red Keep. It landed on one of the seven towers and roared again, announcing to one and all the dragons, after an absence of over three hundred years, once again flew over King's Landing.

As she neared it, Brienne saw the doors of the castle thrown open. Servants, nobles and guards shoved each other in their rush to empty the Red Keep. Rhaegal stretched out its wings, turned its head to the sky and blew out a stream of fire. Drogon roared in response. The five added their squawks, their juvenile voices no less intimidating.

Brienne mounted the steps and stopped in front of the open doors. People who had been trying to escape the castle turned and ran back inside. Drogon flew up to join Rhaegal, landing on the opposite tower. The five landed around Brienne, taking the same defensive positions as before, encircling her, ready to protect her from any threat. Brienne turned to the crowd gathering at the steps of the castle.

"Citizens of King's Landing, you have nothing to fear from these dragons." Brienne raised her voice to be heard by as many as possible. "They are a gift from the Gods to protect us all in our time of need. Kings and Queens act from their own emotions and prejudices. The dragons will not." She laid her hands gently on Allwyn and Gallan. "Accept them and they will accept you."

Some people watched silently, others murmured amongst themselves and some sobbed. Many held up small children, allowing them to more clearly see the drama and majesty of the Gods' gift. Slowly, the human mass began to come closer to the stairs, reluctant hope and hesitant smiles charging the atmosphere among the people.

There was a disturbance in the crowd. The Queensguard, led by Gregor, rudely pushed people aside to make a path to the steps. Cersei, Jaime and Euron were enclosed in their midst. Beyond them were the other parlay participants. The people watched in silent awe as the big, brawny Dothraki, taller, darker and stronger than most men in Westeros, marched forward, Daenerys and Jon in the center of their group. Brienne frowned, turned and strode into the Red Keep. The little dragons squawked and followed after her.

The Great Hall was silent and empty, enormous in size and stature, decorated with red and gold Lannister banners. A long carpet ran the length of the room, ending at the steps of the Iron Throne. The throne itself was a towering monstrosity, created to intimidate, not to impress. A set of rickety steps led to the seat set nearly fifteen feet above the floor. It was made even taller with the mass of swords above it, an asymmetric crown of thorns. The structure was so tall it even blocked the stained-glass window depicting the seven-pointed star, the symbol of the Faith of the Seven.

King Aegon the First had fused in the swords of his enemies, more than a thousand of them, to build this throne. His arrogance had been so great, he'd even elevated himself higher than the symbol of the Gods; held himself higher than the Gods themselves. Aegon had taken from his enemies, and his perceived enemies, to build a monument to himself. Rumor had it, King Aerys, the Mad King, had continued the tradition. The Iron Throne was the ugliest thing Brienne had ever seen, built on the blood and suffering of others.

She crossed silently on the thick carpet and stared at the stairs. Set on a raised dais, even the steps were treacherous, narrow and uneven. The dragons hissed and puffed, circling the throne as if facing a dangerous enemy. Catren descended and landed on the seat of the Iron Throne before Brienne could stop it. The dragon suddenly yelped and rose, wings flapping furiously.

"Catren!" Brienne raced to the top of the steps, the dragons circling around her.

She knew instantly what had happened. The horrible throne had steel fangs built into the back. Aegon had done so deliberately to remind all future kings never to sit easy while on the throne. The spikes had hurt Catren. This abomination was a torture device, not a prize to be fought over and killed for.

Brienne sat gingerly on the seat and held out her arms. Catren flew into her embrace while the other dragons landed on the steps below, hissing angrily at the sharp swords surrounding them. Brienne checked Catren and found a small scratch on the underside of its tail. Outrage pounded through her veins at the sight of the tiny injury. The damned throne, created out of the arrogance of a king who believed himself superior to other men, had tried to take blood from her dragon!

"How dare you!" Cersei's voice vibrated with her fury. "Get off my throne!"

Brienne looked up. She could see the full hall from her vantage point. How could a ruler, seated on this symbol of man's egotism, have compassion when they were so removed from those far below? She watched Cersei, Jaime, Euron and the Queensguard file into the hall. Jon, Daenerys and their entourage followed closely behind them. Cersei stalked halfway across the room, Gregor following at her heels, before she suddenly stopped. Somehow, she'd forgotten Brienne had dragons. Cersei flushed with rage; her hands clenched into fists.

"Only the Queen of the Seven Kingdoms or her Hand is allowed to sit on the throne," Cersei hissed. "You are not worthy of the honor."

"This throne is no honor, it's a horror." Brienne stroked her thumb over the scratch on Catren's tail. "King Aerys was called 'King Scab' because he had so many cuts from this throne. It's also been said the blood caught in the swords sickened those who sat here, magnifying their worst traits. Aerys was a benevolent ruler who turned into the Mad King. Robert went from a warrior to a bloated glutton. Joffrey became even more cruel and arrogant. Tommen became meeker and more subservient, and you…"

Brienne stopped speaking to look at the current Queen of Westeros. Cersei was incandescent in her fury, her cheeks flushed bright red, her eyes spitting wildfire, her body stiff and tight, hands curled into white-knuckled fists. Brienne could hear her labored breath from even her high perch.

"Ser Gregor, remove her from my throne!" Cersei ordered.

"Those dragons will burn you to ashes before you reach the foot of the stairs," Jon warned. "You won't survive an encounter with them."

Cersei looked from Jon to the dragons. Gregor took several lumbering steps closer to the throne. Ardayn and Serdun, seated closest to the bottom of the stairs, squawked and released streams of dragonfire. Their flames, while weak compared to Drogon or Rhaegal, were more than enough to burn a man, even a creature like Gregor had become, to nothing. Had Gregor been a few meters closer, he would have been engulfed in flames.

"Ser Gregor, return to me!" Cersei called.

Gregor turned around and went back to Cersei's side. The current queen glared up at Brienne.

"This was your plan all along," Cersei snarled. "All this talk of the Night King, ceasefires and cooperation were just a ploy to enter King's Landing. You're working with that Targaryen bitch. You want to give her my throne. I won't allow it!"

"Catren flew up here," Brienne tried to explain. "I came to retrieve the dragon."

"This is about greater matters than who sits on the Iron Throne. We're serious in our desire for a ceasefire," Jon insisted. "We need to join together to face the greater threat."

"There is no greater threat than that foreign scum," Cersei hissed. "I won't allow her to sit on the Iron Throne."

"I gave you my word," Daenerys snapped. "My first priority, like King Jon's, is to band together to fight for the living. Otherwise, I would have already killed you and taken the Iron Throne."

"Your word is meaningless as you are," Cersei snapped. "I won't allow a foreign usurper to defile my throne."

"Foreign usurper," Daenerys repeated. "My family sat on the Iron Throne for hundreds of years."

"Until a Baratheon dethroned your family," Cersei pointed out. "They were false kings."

"Now I'll take it back," Daenerys's smile was a sharp as a knife point, "from a false Baratheon."

"I'm not false," Cersei spat, "I'm the true Queen of the Seven Kingdoms."

"You bear Lannister colors," Daenerys swept her hand out to the banners hung around the hall. "And you bear Lannister bastards. You are as false as your claim to the Iron Throne."

"How dare you!" Cersei advanced on Daenerys. "I won't hear you!"

Qhono immediately stepped in front of Daenerys. Jaime pulled Cersei back, trying to calm her. The Queensguard and the Dothraki lined up in front of their respective queens. Jon and Tyrion both spoke, trying to soothe the situation. Euron crossed his arms and grinned, looking from one side to the other, enjoying the spectacle. Jorah, Missandei, Davos and Varys stood behind Daenerys, silent and watchful, not adding to the chaos but not trying to stop it, either. Qyburn stood behind his enraged queen, equally useless. Sandor was far in the back of the room, grim-faced, watching the dragons as if fearing they would suddenly fire on him.

Brienne gritted her teeth. Before her were two kings, two queens, their advisors and their guards. These were the people who held the fate of the realm in their hands. Yet they couldn't put aside their personal grievances and ambitions for the common good. They still insisted on fighting for an ugly, painful throne instead of for the people.

"_They forgot kingship is a duty, not a right." _

Griff understood what these people didn't. They had forgotten they ruled for the people, not for their own personal glory. Cersei and Euron, and even Daenerys, fought for power and the vicious symbol of that power. They spoke of it with such reverence, tones which should only be used to describe the mightiest of all, the Gods themselves. Instead, the kings and queens sat on this towering monstrosity, making those they should protect appear small and insignificant. They didn't want to rule wisely, they didn't want to earn the love of the people, they didn't even want to observe the authority of their own Gods.

All they wanted was a vicious throne that leeched blood and sanity from all those forced to sit upon it. The Iron Throne took their humanity and left behind senseless lust. Why couldn't Cersei and Euron, even Daenerys, see reason? They'd walked past the people, seen those whom they should be protecting, and had already seen what they were fighting against. Still, they'd pushed aside the people and saw only their own desires. This throne was what they wanted. Even the awe inspired by the dragons wasn't enough to break their attraction to this horror.

The Iron Throne was what kings and queens wanted, what they fought over, what they would kill for. Its sickness has already infected their minds. The Gods had given her the order and expected her to carry out their will. The people saw her and understood she'd come to help them. How could she do so if she couldn't make their rulers see reason? She wasn't Griff, she didn't have his ability to persuade people. Jon was trying but his lone voice wasn't enough to break through the lust inspired by this throne.

Cersei turned back to glare at Brienne and the young dragons. "Get off my throne and leave my kingdom before I have you dragged out."

"With what army?" Tyrion snorted. "There is no force in King's Landing, or anywhere for that matter, strong enough to stand against dragons. They won't leave until they want to leave. But," he swept out his hand in invitation, "you're welcome to go to them and try."

Cersei looked from her brother to the Iron Throne, her mouth open, her eyes glazed over, as the realization finally sunk in. Her Queensguard, her Gold Cloaks and even her army couldn't stand against dragons. Drogon _alone_ had destroyed more than half the Lannister army. Now, an entire squadron of dragons had invaded Westeros. She was no longer Queen of the Seven Kingdoms. The dragons controlled the Iron Throne.

Brienne took a deep breath, whispering her thanks to the Gods. The dragons had made Cersei see reason. The throne was only a possession, easily taken. They had to fight for the living, not for symbols. Maybe now the monarchs were ready to listen and work together.

"Sȳrī gaomagon, Catren." Brienne murmured, stroking the dragon's scratch one last time.

Brienne stood and sat Catren back on the throne, careful to keep the dragon's tail away from the spikes. She made her way gingerly down the steps, stroking and praising each dragon as she went past them, trying to calm them. They still hissed at the sharp spikes that had hurt Catren, had tried to bleed one of their own. The dragons could sense the chair for the evil it was, smell the centuries of blood and tears spilled to create it, feel the madness it generated.

Once at the bottom of the narrow, hazardous steps, Brienne turned back to the dragons. They looked from the sharp swords to her then back to the ugly monument of a king's cruelty to those crushed under his will. She returned her attention to the bickering rulers and accidentally scratched her hand alongside a sharp sword. Brienne gasped and snatched her hand away. The scratch was minor, so shallow it didn't draw blood, but the result was shattering.

The dragons screeched, rose and circled around her. By the time she understood their intention, it was too late. The five fired on the ugly Iron Throne of blood and swords. The towering structure, like the kings it elevated or people it subjugated, collapsed under a power greater than crowns and rulers.

Suddenly, glorious light flooded the hall, forcing everyone to shade their eyes and blink rapidly to adjust to the brilliant brightness. The stained-glass window, no longer blocked by the throne, now dominated the room. The sun, perfectly positioned to shine through the glass, caused the seven-pointed star design to spill color, warmth and brightness through to the very end of the throne room. The Gods reclaimed their dominion over King's Landing. The Iron Throne fell to their will and their gift, the resurgence of the dragons.

In the end, the Gods and their dragons would always be more powerful than men and their swords.

Translations:

Protct yeri khaleesi = Protect your queen

Zaldrīzoti, māzigon naejot issa = Dragons, come to me

Sōvegon, zaldrīzoti = Fly, dragons

Sȳrī gaomagon = Well done

**Author's Note:** I'm sorry I missed the Sunday posting. I had family obligations that took up most of last week. I hope this extra-long chapter made up for the wait. I'm without a beta this week so please let me know if I need to make any corrections.

What did you think of the burning of the Iron Throne? Did you expect it to happen so soon in the story? Did you like Brienne's decision to take the young dragons into King's Landing?

This story is based on the TV show but I used the Iron Throne from the books. It works better for my plot. Please see the _Wiki of Ice and Fire_ for an illustration:

. /Iron_Throne

I used the picture of King Tommen and his kittens as my inspiration for the Iron Throne and the throne room.


	18. Throne Room Keeper

**THE KEEPER**

Chapter 18 – Throne Room Keeper

"No!" Cersei's voice throbbed with rage and command. She held her hands up to shade her eyes from the combined brightness of the dragons' fire and the newly dominate stained glass window.

"The dragons landed on the throne and it scratched one of them," Brienne tried to explain. "They don't mean –"

"I don't care!" Cersei snapped. "Make them stop!"

Everyone watched the collapse of the Iron Throne. Most, like the Dothraki, Missandei, Jorah, Davos, Qyburn and Varys, viewed the burning impassively. The Queensguard and additional Lannister guards used the distraction to shift further away from the dragons. Jaime and Sandor seemed to be lost in past horrors, eyes seeing the fire but blank and unblinking. Cersei shook with impotent fury, Daenerys grimaced with frustration, Tyrion frowned regretfully, Jon was as somber as usual while Euron… Brienne shuddered at the dark lust in the Ironborn king's eyes as his gaze darted between her and the dragons. Euron was aroused by the power of the dragons.

Brienne turned back at the five. They squawked and flew in circles, around the steps and over the crown of swords, keeping her in the circle of their fire ring. Some of the swords melted easily, running down the steps in molten streams, while others appeared to be made of stronger material.

"Zaldrīzoti, māzigon naejot issa!" Brienne called.

The dragons squawked didn't come down to her. They were determined to destroy any weapon that could further hurt them or Brienne. Thick plumes of black smoke began to fill the hall. The kings, Cersei and their entourages began coughing and choking.

"Open the doors and windows," Qyburn commanded.

The Lannister guards practically ran in their haste to get away from the dragons. They opened the doors and windows, standing in the open doorways instead of inside the room. Cersei didn't notice their eagerness to stay as close to exits as possible. Her focus was on the dragons melting the only tangible symbol of her control over King's Landing.

"They're destroying the Iron Throne. Stop them!" Cersei commanded, gasping in the smoke.

"How?" Tyrion demanded, coughing. "Dragons don't fall under the rule of men."

"This is your fault," Cersei accused Daenerys, trying to wave away the smoke. "They're your dragons. You're responsible."

"Perhaps you should try to command them yourself," Daenerys suggested coldly, unaffected by the smoke and fumes. "They may stop firing on the throne and burn you instead."

Brienne ignored them to focus on the dragons. She had to skip away to avoid the river of molten metal running down and melting the staircase. By doing so, she widened the dragons' circle, forcing them to choose between her safety and their vengeance.

"Sȳrī gaomagon," Brienne tried again. "Zaldrīzoti, māzigon naejot issa!"

The dragons finally left the remains of the throne to return to her defense. Catren landed in front of her as before but this time the others landed in an arrow formation, with Allwyn and Gallan on either side of Brienne, facing forward while Serdun and Ardayn stationed themselves just behind and outside of them. Brienne stared at the five. They knew there was no threat from the still molten, dripping throne and had adjusted their defensive stance accordingly.

Griff had taught them battle strategy. How had he done that? Brienne had thought the dragons had _left_ Griff to return to her. Could it be that Griff had trained the dragons and _sent_ them to her? Her heart beat faster. The last message from Griff had come suspiciously quickly. That wouldn't have been possible if he was still in Valyria. Was he closer to her, perhaps already in Westeros? Had he known she would need help and sent the dragons to her?

Outside, Drogon and Rhaegal roared, dragging Brienne's thoughts back to the present situation. Everyone froze but the bigger dragons didn't react beyond their roars. Brienne relaxed and looked down at the younger dragons. Drogon had sensed, through the magical connection the dragons had, that the five were no longer distressed. They didn't need Drogon and Rhaegal's help. They were still alert and ready but no longer blasted on the throne they so hated.

The young dragons had destroyed a coveted symbol of the ruler's authority. Even Daenerys had wanted to sit on the Iron Throne. Now it was reduced to smoldering metal, the seat and iron steps unrecognizable lumps, most of the swords reduced to puddles that covered the stone steps at the base. What was the punishment for destroying a revered monument? Would anyone attempt to punish the young dragons? Did they understand Drogon and Rhaegal would bring the entire Red Keep down around them if they tried?

"The dragons were threatened by the throne," Brienne tried to explain. "They're very young and don't always understand—"

"They understand perfectly," Jon interrupted, his eyes shining. "They're intelligent, intuitive and brilliant."

"What?" Brienne stared at the King in the North.

The other rulers were upset by the destruction of the symbol of Westerosi power. Jon, however, looked as delighted as if the dragons had handed him a great victory. His normally dark, serious eyes were shining with uncustomary pleasure and relief. He strode forward until he was mere meters away from the dragons.

"Brienne, look!" Jon urged her.

She turned to look. The Iron Throne was now a mass of melting, cooling metal but throughout, many of the swords remained proudly standing, unharmed by the dragonfire. Brienne's eyes widened as she understood what she was seeing.

"Valyrian steel," she gasped.

"Yes. The dragons found the missing Valyrian steel swords." Jon took a small step closer, wary of the defensive five. "There must be hundreds of them."

Brienne looked down at the dragons. They widened their battle formation, spreading out to look beyond Jon for possible threats. They were as intelligent, intuitive and brilliant as Jon said they were. They knew the King in the North wouldn't hurt Brienne so they'd shifted to watch beyond him for possible attacks. Had the dragons known what they were doing when they'd fired on the throne? Had the Gods commanded them to show the army of men the weapons they'd hidden so carefully through the ages?

"This helps, doesn't it?" Brienne asked.

Jon smiled and nodded. He looked down at Brienne's bodyguards and stepped closer.

"Sȳrī gaomagon, zaldrīzoti," he said quietly, repeating the words Brienne often used to praise the dragons.

The five squawked in response. Catren stepped forward and the others followed, keeping their formation tight. Now Jon was behind them, while they faced the other direction, watching the room. The dragons hissed and puffed, but not at Jon. Their attention was on Euron, who had moved closer to the melted mass of the throne.

"I thought there were only three dragons." Euron stepped closer still, but remained well outside of the dragons' fire range. "Why hasn't anyone heard of these dragons?"

Euron looked at them with undisguised lust, his eyes darkening with unholy desire. The dragons extended their wings, stretching themselves to their full, impressive stature. Brienne had the urge to hold them close and protect them from the naked wanting in the Ironborn king's eyes. Not that the dragons needed protection. They hissed and swished their tails, easily the most dangerous creatures in the room.

"They were too young," Brienne answered. "They had to be kept secret to protect them until they were old enough to defend themselves."

Euron shifted so he could watch Brienne and Daenerys at the same time. "Big woman, why do the dragons follow you if Daenerys is their queen?"

"Her name is Brienne," Jon said as he studied the swords that remained intact and upright in the still molten metal.

"_Lady_ Brienne," Daenerys corrected, coming to stand beside Brienne. "She's the daughter of a lord and my blood. Treat her with due respect."

Their relation must have sounded odd to others. Tall, broad, masculine Brienne beside the tiny, delicate, elegant Dragon Queen. No one would believe they shared blood. Brienne wouldn't have believed it herself if it weren't for the blood of the dragon. It gave her the gift of the dragons but it hadn't given her any of the famed Targaryen beauty. Still, Euron looked at her as if she were the most fascinating woman in the world.

"Well, Lady Brienne, I'm impressed." Euron's gaze glittered as he observed her. "Back on the Iron Islands, we respect powerful women. We only have one use for little princesses and not for long. Delicate ladies don't last with the Ironborn."

"She's a pawn for the foreign scum," Cersei snapped. "We have nothing to say to them, Euron."

"It's _King_ Euron." He didn't even bother to look at Cersei. "I'm the ruler of the Iron Islands and control the most powerful naval fleet in the known world. Show _me_ respect."

Cersei stalked over to him, Gregor at her back. The Lannister soldiers stationed themselves in the doorways, far away from the dragons. The Queensguard hovered behind Cersei but stayed far from the dragons, too. Only the Dothraki focused on protecting their queen who, ironically, was the only person who _didn't_ need protection from dragons.

"I'm the Queen of the Seven Kingdoms," Cersei reminded him.

"No, you're not." Euron laughed, an ugly, mean-spirited sound. "Those dragons melted the Iron Throne while you couldn't do anything but watch. You're completely useless to me now."

Cersei hissed in a sharp breath. "I can have you executed in an instant."

"Like how you could command these dragons to stop firing on the only thing worth having in this shithole of a city?" Euron taunted.

"Ser Gregor will remove your head in a single blow," Cersei snarled, "or with a thousand small cuts if I order him to."

"If he sheds blood in front of Lady Brienne, her bodyguards will burn him, and you, to ashes." Euron sneered. "You and your creature have already threatened her. They're just waiting for an excuse to blast you."

Cersei's eyes widened. She looked down at the dragons, their cold, reptilian eyes glittering with bloodlust. She took a large, prudent step backwards. Gregor shifted back accordingly, closing the gap between himself and his queen.

"You have nothing," Euron continued. "Your army is a few hundred bannermen who only come because you threatened their wives or children. Your Gold Cloaks shat on themselves when the dragons passed. Your Queensguard are shitting themselves now."

"You can't speak to your Queen like that." Jaime finally broke free of the odd stupor he'd been under since the dragons began firing on the Iron Throne. "She's your –"

"She's a washed-up old cunt who hasn't figured out she's lost," Euron interrupted. "She has no army, no allies, shitty guards and a cripple trying to hold it all together."

"No one is forcing you to stay," Jaime growled. "Leave now."

"Now, when things are finally getting interesting?" Euron laughed his mean-spirited laugh. He looked at the dragons again. "Tell me, Lady Brienne, why do those dragons protect you and not Queen Daenerys?"

Brienne glanced down at the dragons. They were no longer puffed up but they were still in their formation, ready to strike. Jon and now Jorah were behind them, inspecting the swords, but the five knew they weren't a threat. The dragons were focused on the Ironborn king who looked at them and at Brienne with far too much intensity.

"Of course, the young dragons protect her." Daenerys's voice dripped condescension. "She's their mother."

"Mother?" Jaime's eyes widened. He jerked back, as if hit by an unseen fist.

"Mother?" Euron repeated and laughed with genuine amusement. "So, Kingslayer, you're not the only one who hid your bastards."

"The dragons are not bastards." Brienne instantly defended them. "They're born of magic. Magic legitimized by the Gods themselves."

"The Gods, huh?" Euron grinned, showing off his yellowing teeth. "I don't follow the Faith of the Seven, my Lady."

He probably though his smile was charming but it made the hairs on the back of Brienne's neck rise. The dragons were similarly affected, puffing up again, tails swishing warningly. She moved between Catren and Allwyn, the two most excitable dragons, putting her hands on their necks to calm them.

"The Drowned God also legitimized the dragons," she informed him.

He raised an eyebrow. "Really? How do you know that?"

"It was a saltwater priest who started me on my journey to find them," she informed him. "It was the Drowned God who kept us fed and hidden on the Narrow Sea until the dragons grew."

"I am the Drowned God," Euron boasted. "From Oldtown to Qarth, when men see my sails...they pray." He took a small step closer. "That mean these dragons, and their mother, belong to me."

Jaime hissed out his breath and flushed angrily. "Back off, Euron. She's not for you."

"She's not for _you_, Kingslayer," Euron shot back. "I'm a King and I'm a God. By the authority of the Gods' laws, Lady Brienne is mine."

Brienne glared at the Ironborn king; her cheeks flushed with angry color. Still, she held herself tall and strong. She was no longer a shy, awkward maid. She was a warrior, the Gods' warrior. Pompous, arrogant braggarts couldn't intimidate or hurt her anymore.

"The dragons and I belong only to ourselves," she insisted. "We're not the possessions of any man."

"You and I together will be unstoppable," Euron promised, taking another small step closer. "With my ships and your dragons, we'll rule the world with our unmatched naval and air forces."

The dragons hissed in warning and Euron stopped advancing.

"There is no 'you and I' nor will there ever be." Brienne scowled. "These dragons will never become weapons in the wars of men."

"They won't be weapons," Euron assured her. "They'll be conquerors. I'll tell them where to aim and they'll destroy entire armies in minutes."

"Not possible," Brienne informed him. "The dragons only listen to me or to someone bonded to me."

"Bonded?" Euron's eyes darkened with lust. "And how does one bond with you, my Lady? Bond with me and I'll lay the world at your feet."

"You can't be serious," Cersei snapped. "Look at her. She has no beauty, no charm. You can't possibly want her."

The unholy lust in Euron's eyes didn't diminish. "It's amazing how desirable a woman becomes when you see her through a blaze of fire."

Brienne resisted the urge to step back, away from him. She had nothing to fear. It wasn't possible Euron could ever bond with her or the dragons. There was no reason to hide the truth. She wasn't any good at lying, anyway.

"A bond requires you love me more than you love anyone else in the world." Brienne explained. "You must be willing to die for me."

"The dragons can sense if a man loves you, is willing to die for you?" Euron snorted. "Is anyone bonded to you?"

Brienne nodded. "Yes, several people."

The young dragons treated Selwyn as an extension of Brienne, going to him for attention when Brienne couldn't cuddle them all. Allwyn even preferred Selwyn's wider lap for midday naps. Podrick had finally gotten over his fear of the dragons, mainly because they wouldn't stay away from him. The five took turns draping themselves over his shoulders or nudging him up when he fell during his twice daily training sessions with Brienne.

"Who?" Euron demanded, interrupting her thoughts. "Who's bonded to you?"

"My father," Brienne answered. "My squire and my –"

She stopped herself before she said 'king.' She has almost revealed the existence of the true King of Westeros. That slip could cost Griff his life. He didn't have the dragons to protect him. They were here with her, well-trained and well-prepared to defend her. Then the realization hit her and she gasped. Griff, the future King Aegon the Sixth Targaryen, was able to command the dragons.

It wasn't because he carried the blood of the dragon. Daenerys had tried to call the five but they hadn't responded to her. Even while on the _Sea Keeper_, the dragons had only listened to Brienne or Griff. Not only could he command the dragons, Griff had even trained them. Brienne's whole body became rigid. Was Griff _bonded_ to her? Would the future King of the Seven Kingdoms be willing to die for her? That must never happen. The world needed him too much to lose him.

"Who else?" Euron prodded. "Who else is bonded to you?"

Brienne pressed her lips together. Her cheeks flushed deeper with unwanted color. She hated to lie and was terrible at it. It was better to say nothing than risk exposing her future king. Euron laughed his ugly laugh and came to his own conclusion.

"So, you already have a lover, don't you?" he guessed. "Of course. A smart man would anything to put his mark on you."

Behind him, both Jaime and Cersei jerked at Euron's bold statement. Cersei gaped in insulting, wide-eyed shock, unable to believe anyone would want Brienne. Jaime's face went rigid, mouth tight, eyes darkening dark green with distress and glittering with jealousy.

"I'm not a slave," Brienne protested. "No one marks me. Nor will I ever allow these dragons to be enslaved."

"_Zaldrīzes buzdari iksos daor."_

She could hear Griff's voice in her head. He knew a dragon must not become a slave. Griff had never tried to use the dragons. He hadn't even put them in enclosed spaces, except for those short moments when she and the dragons had to be smuggled into ports. He would never look at the five with Euron's disgusting, undisguised intent.

"I'll mark you," Euron promised, coming closer to firing range. "I've had thousands of women. They never forget me. All of them leave my bed crying," he paused, "for more."

It was years of staying with bawdy soldiers that allowed Brienne to stand tall, not to cringe at the unsavory image. She didn't doubt women cried in Euron's bed. She did doubt they wanted more of this pompous, brutish oaf.

"Are you prepared to die for me?" Brienne asked quietly.

Euron smiled his yellowing smile again and stepped closer. He put his arms out wide, as though he had nothing to hide. "Of course. For you, my Lady, I would die a thousand times."

"One time will suffice," she noted drily. "Take a few more steps and that time will be now. The dragons don't believe you and you're almost in their firing range."

Euron's eyes widened and he jumped back. Jaime, safely outside of the dragons' range, snorted. Daenerys snickered. Further down the hall, Tyrion laughed out loud. Even Sandor chuckled from his post near the doors. Cersei could only stare at Euron, her jaw slack and her eyes squinted as if she couldn't bring the scene into focus. Everyone else remained quiet, watching with amused interest. Euron's face flushed with ugly color as he realized they'd all witnessed his humiliation.

"You're making a mistake," Euron warned Brienne. "I control the greatest armada Westeros has ever seen. With the _Iron Fleet_, you own the seas!"

"Yes," a voice called from the door. "We own the seas but you no longer control the _Iron Fleet_."

Theon stood in the doorway, his clothes and sword stained in blood. He was breathing hard but his eyes glittered with victory. Everyone turned to watch him, except the dragons, who were still fixated on Euron. Theon bent his knee but Daenerys waived her hand.

"Arise, Theon," she commanded before his knee even touched the floor. "Did you find Yara?"

"Yes, my Queen," Theon nodded.

He came further into the room. His Ironborn officers followed in after him, their clothes also bloodied from battle. Like Theon, they looked tired but triumphant.

"Is she alright?" Jon left his inspection of the swords.

The King in the North strode past the dragons and towards Theon. Daenerys walked with him to meet Theon. Jorah, the Dothraki and her entourage kept pace, shifting their entire team, along with Davos, away from the remains of the Iron Throne. Cersei grabbed Jaime's arm and pulled him back with her. Gregor went with her, blocking her with his large body. The Queensquard were equally eager to put more distance between themselves and the dragons. The Lannister guards remained in the various doorways, tense and ready to run at the first sign of dragonfire. Sandor was already outside the door, watching from the distance.

"She will be, your Grace," Theon assured him. "She's with the maesters now, surrounded by trusted guards."

Jon came to his side. "Good. I'm glad to hear it."

He put his hand on Theon's shoulder and squeezed gently. Theon opened and closed his mouth twice before his words were audible.

"Thank you, your Grace," he said.

Jon nodded. "So, the _Iron Fleet_ is ours?"

"Yes, it is." Theon turned to Daenerys. "My sister wanted me to inform you how eager she is to return to service, as soon as she's able."

"No!" Euron snarled. "I'm the Drowned God, I'm the Ironborn King."

"You're god of nothing, king of nothing." Theon held up his blood-soaked sword. "Queen Yara will take back the Iron Islands in Queen Daenerys's name."

"Theon, put your sword away," Jon ordered. "The dragons have already burned a thousand blades, just for scratching Brienne."

Theon shook his head. "The dragons know who wants to hurt them. They know Euron is an evil that must be removed from this world."

Euron crossed the room, pulling out his own sword. "Welp, you think you can challenge me? I thought my last beating taught you manners. This time I won't stop at a beating."

Brienne grabbed Catren and Allwyn, her most excitable dragons and began to move back, trying to put as much distance as possible between the dragons and the upcoming combat. As she expected, Ardayn and Serdun, her most devoted guards, followed to keep her protected. Only Gallan, the calmest and most placid, was left in their previous position.

"Gallan, māzigon naejot issa," Brienne called softly.

Gallan came back to her and took point position. Brienne's mouth dropped open. Not only did the dragons know defensive strategy but they even understood how to alter formation when needed. Brienne had a tight grip on Catren, normally the lead position. Gallan had taken that role to maintain their defense.

Euron swung first but Theon blocked his thrust. Their swords struck sparks as they clashed against each other, grunting and pushing. The dragons hissed and puffed in warning. Catren and Allwyn pulled against Brienne's arms. Ardayn and Serdun began to creep forward. Placid Gallan remained in his lead position, ready and watchful.

"No!" Brienne shifted to her knees, trying to reach the other dragons while not releasing her hold on Catren and Allwyn. She couldn't hold them all. "Your Grace, help me, please!"

Everyone looked over to see Catren and Allwyn straining against Brienne's hold. Cersei gasped and hid behind Gregor. Jaime backed away, his hand on the pommel of _Widow's Wail_. The Queensguard flattened themselves against the far wall, along with the Lannister guards. Qyburn hid in the far corner, near the guards.

"I'm coming, Lady Brienne." Daenerys tried to go to her.

"Khaleesi, no. It's too dangerous," Jorah insisted.

Her bloodriders and Jorah blocked her path. Missandei put her hand on her Queen's arm. Jon frowned between Daenerys and Brienne, his focus on the battle between Theon and Euron.

"Ser Jorah, I must go to Lady Brienne and help her calm her dragons," Daenerys insisted. "You saw what they did to the Iron Throne when it scratched her. Those dragons will burn this castle to the ground to protect their mother."

Jorah looked from the battle between the Greyjoys to Brienne struggling with the dragons. He nodded and put himself between his queen and the combat.

"Reri gwe," Daenerys ordered when her Dothraki guards tried to move with her.

Jorah drew his sword, watching the battle as he kept Daenerys behind his back. Carefully, they shifted down the room. Theon battled his uncle down the hall, towards the ruined throne, with single-minded focus and rage-induced strength. Everyone, except the dueling Greyjoys, breathed a sigh of relief when Daenerys reached Brienne.

Euron saw his opening, the brief second when Jorah relaxed, and kicked Theon back towards the dragons. Jorah moved quickly and caught Theon before he fell into the five. The distraction was enough to allow Euron to snatch Daenerys. The dragons hissed and puffed as the Dragon Queen was jerked away from them.

"No!" Brienne cried and lunged for Ardayn and Serdun.

Jorah pushed Theon aside and faced Euron. Theon held his sword ready, too, but allowed Jorah to take the lead.

"Don't be stupid," Jorah growled to Euron. "Look around you. You won't leave this room alive if you don't let her go."

The Dothraki bloodriders pulled out their swords. The Ironborn men did, too.

"No! Put away your swords," Daenerys ordered, trying to twist out of Euron's grip. "ūndegon se zaldrīzoti!"

Reluctantly, her guards put their weapons away. The Ironborn fighters also sheathed their blades. The Queensguard and the Lannister guards hadn't bothered to pull out their swords. Ardayn and Serdun advanced, until they were only a step behind Gallan. Brienne held on to Catren and Allwyn as they strained to go to the defensive line. They squawked and began to drag Brienne forward.

"Keep them back," Euron ordered. "They fire on me and they'll burn your precious queen."

Still Catren and Allwyn advanced, dragging Brienne with them. Brienne had nothing to grip to hold them back, sliding on her knees along the polished floor. Serdun and Ardayn shifted to their normal positions to the outside of the formation. Gallan watched Euron steadily, reptilian eyes cold and assessing.

Euron right hand, wrapped around Daenerys's waist, held his sword which he pressed against her cheek. His left hand, the one not holding his sword, ran offensively up Daenerys's body. First, he squeezed her breast then reached up to wrap his hand around her throat. Jorah lunged forward but Euron used his right hand to hold out his sword.

"Don't come any closer," the former Ironborn king snarled. "I'll choke her if you do."

Then Euron made his fatal mistake. He turned his sword onto Brienne and the dragons. Gallan, closest to the threat, released a stream of dragonfire that caught both Euron and Daenerys. Euron screamed and released the Dragon Queen. Daenerys fell to the floor and quickly began to roll. Jorah knelt down beside her to help her pat out the flames. Euron, lacking Daenerys's gift of withstanding fire, shrieked in agony, staggering forward, his body aflame. Everyone shied away as he fell into a burnt pile, the stench of burning flesh making them all gasp and cover their noses.

Gallan looked back and yelped. Brienne instantly released Catren and Allwyn. She held her arms out to Gallan. The blue dragon yelped again and flew into her embrace.

"Sȳrī gaomagon, Gallan," Brienne praised, holding the dragon tightly and rocking with it in her arms. "Sȳrī gaomagon."

Gallan wrapped its tail around Brienne's waist and rubbed its head against her tousled blonde hair. Catren and Allwyn joined Ardayn and Serdun on their defensive line, wings outstretched, adjusting to fill Gallan's gap, bodies puffed, ready to protect Brienne from any threat.

Jorah stood up and helped Daenerys to stand. Her thick coat had burnt off in places, exposing her pale, unmarked flesh. Jorah removed his cloak. She covered herself with it and smoothed down her disarrayed hair while everyone, except Jorah, the bloodriders and Brienne, stared at her in stunned silence. Missandei shook herself from her stupor and hurried over to assist Daenerys.

"Burn them all." Jaime stumbled forward, his eyes dark and confused, unable to understand what he was seeing. "Aerys said to burn them all. He was insane. He wanted to be a dragon. He would have burned, too. Everyone would have burned. _Everyone burns_."

"Not everyone." Cersei stunned expression matched Jaime's. "Not her. She's not burnt."

"No." Missandei spoke for the first time, her normally warm, sweet voice cold and unyielding. She faced the group, placing herself between them and Daenerys, shielding her queen. "She is Daenerys Stormborn of House Targaryen, the Mother of Dragons, the _U__nburnt_."

"No, no," Jaime whispered, eyes dilatated to almost black with deepening shock. "I stopped him. This can't happen. I sacrificed my reputation, my honor, to stop him. But they don't burn. He swore he'd return."

He looked at the daughter of the Mad King, the man who had wanted to be reborn as a dragon to burn the world. The man Jaime had killed to protect the citizens of King's Landing. The Mad King's daughter didn't burn. Brienne's heart ached at the agony on Jaime's face. He'd endured a lifetime of unspoken sacrifice and undue shame, which he now thought to have been in vain. The dragons he'd tried to prevent from burning the world now ruled King's Landing. Worse, she, his friend and confidant, with whom he'd shared his darkest secrets, was the mother of five of those dragons.

Brienne could see the fear in his eyes, understand what he couldn't put into words. Jaime thought Aerys had been reborn to take his vengeance.

After all he had sacrificed, would King's Landing burn anyway?

Translations:

Zaldrīzoti, māzigon naejot issa = Dragons, come to me

Sȳrī gaomagon = Well done

Zaldrīzes buzdari iksos daor = A dragon is not a slave

Reri gwe = Stay back

ūndegon se zaldrīzoti!" = See the dragons

**Author's Notes:** So, how am I doing? Do you like the story so far? Does it make sense? Please leave comments if I need to clarify points. I can add those explanations in future chapters.

I'm without a beta again this week. Let me know if I need to make any corrections.

Two problems have been solved for the Armies of Men. They now have powerful weapons to arm themselves for the Great War. Also, Euron has been removed. The _Golden Company_ can safely travel to Westeros.

But a new problem has arisen. How will Jaime, a key warrior in the fight against the Night King, reconcile his history with the Targaryens with his future fighting alongside them?


	19. Honor Keeper

**THE KEEPER**

Chapter 19 – Honor Keeper

"Ser Jaime," Brienne pleaded, "it's not what you think it is. The dragons won't hurt you."

Jaime turned from staring at Daenerys to Brienne. His eyes burned with wildfire seeing Brienne knelt on the floor with a dragon snuggling frantically in her arms and another four as her guards. His face drained of color.

"It's too late." His voice was hoarse and raw, almost as if he were choking. "They've already hurt, they've already killed. The big dragon burned half my army, good men, following orders." He nodded to Gallan. "This one killed in an instant. Don't you see? Dragons are evil. How can you be the _mother_ of such evil?"

"No, Ser Jaime, no!" Brienne shook her head, her voice cracking. "Please! Don't say that!"

The dragons, picking up on her distress, began to hiss and swish their tails. The Lannister guards cringed. Cersei put her hand on Jaime's arm, trying to pull him back. Jaime angrily shrugged off her hand. Cersei darted back to the protection of Gregor's bulk.

"Where did you get them, Brienne?" Jaime demanded, his eyes wild and pupils enlarged. "How long have you had them? You said the Iron Throne corrupted kings' minds. What does birthing demons do? Wasn't that what killed your _precious_ Renly?"

"The dragons aren't demons, Ser Jaime," Brienne insisted, nearing tears. "Drogon attacked your army during war. You and I have both killed our enemies. You said yourself, at the parlay, you thought we'd next see each other across a battlefield."

"I didn't think it would be so quickly or that you'd bring creatures from the Seven Hells with you," Jaime snarled.

Brienne cried out as tears spilled from her eyes. The dragons puffed with aggression. Brienne grabbed Allwyn and held on tight to Gallan, still in her lap. She buried her face in Allwyn's neck to hide her tears. The dragons squawked at Jaime, almost as if they were scolding him. Daenerys knelt in front of her, wrapping her arms around Catren and Serdun, soothing them. Only Ardayn, named to honor Jaime's idol, was unaccompanied. Jon strode over to Jaime, putting Brienne and the dragons behind his back, blocking them from Jaime's wrath.

"Brienne is under the protection of House Stark," Jon snapped. "If you insult her again, I'll forget you're a man of honor."

"Man of honor?" Jaime's laugh was almost as hateful as Euron's had been. "Your dear father, the most honorable man in the Seven Kingdoms, has already judged me lacking. Ned Stark branded me the Kingslayer, an Oathbreaker, a man without –"

Jon backslapped Jaime's cheek, so hard Jaime's body made a quarter-turn to follow the snap of his neck. Behind Jaime, Cersei gasped in outrage. Tyrion cried out in protest. Jon ignored them to focus on Jaime.

"Snap out of it!" The King in the North ordered.

Brienne also gasped at Jon's brutality but his actions were what Jaime needed to break out of the shock that had gripped him. Blood flushed into his cheeks and the daze faded from his eyes, the dilated black contracting back to wildfire green.

"I…I," Jaime shook his head as if to clear it. "What? I didn't, I don't…"

He trailed off to look past Jon to Brienne. Jon shifted aside, so he was no longer blocking her from Jaime. She raised her head from Allwyn's neck, trying to subtly brush away her tears so he wouldn't have to see them.

Jaime's eyes softened. "Brienne, I'm sorry. I didn't mean what I said. It's just so much to accept at one time."

He stepped forward, hand outstretched, but the damage had been done. The dragons hissed and extended their wings, making it clear Jaime wouldn't be allowed any closer to Brienne. Gallan wrenched out of Brienne's arms to join the defensive line, equally ready to protect her from the man whose words had caused her such pain.

Tyrion came over and put his hand on Jaime's arm. Jaime, now coming out of his shock, nodded down at his little brother.

"Jaime, I know this is overwhelming," Tyrion soothed. "But the dragons are not mindless killing machines. Some say they're even smarter than humans because they can sense intent. Look at them. They didn't attack you, even though your words hurt their mother. They only fire on those who they know want to harm her. It's their instinct to keep Lady Brienne safe and happy."

"Dear Gods." Jaime's eyes widened as his actions began to sink in. "I'm sorry, Brienne, please believe me."

"It doesn't matter if she believes you. Her dragons have already decided to keep you away from her," Daenerys snapped over her shoulder, still holding tightly to Catren and Serdun. "I suggest you step back. They're very strong."

Jaime moved back, his mouth dropping open. The dragons calmed the further he was away from Brienne. They folded in their wings and relaxed. Everyone in the room relaxed with them. Cersei peeked out from behind Gregor.

Jon stroked Ardayn's neck. "Sȳrī gaomagon, Ardayn."

The silver-grey dragon squawked and accepted the praise with its customary aplomb. The dragons spread out their defensive line to see beyond Jon.

"See, Jaime?" Tyrion's voice was still low and soothing. "The dragons are intelligent and able to reason. They understand human emotions because they have emotions, too. Look how clever they are. They know how to adjust their defensive stance to always keep Lady Brienne safe. They're not evil, they're not demons. They just want to protect the person they love most."

Jaime shook his head, his eyes dark and sorrowful. "Brienne…"

"It's alright, Ser Jaime." Brienne shook her head. "You were upset and you lashed out."

"I had no right to lash out at you," Jaime's eyes shone with remorse. "I should have remembered your sense of honor, your character."

"Instead, you remembered my father." Daenerys straightened away from the now calm dragons and turned to face Jaime. "I know what he became. I understand and accept your reaction to me. But I will not tolerate another such attack on Lady Brienne." She stepped closer Jaime. "Like the dragons, I protect my family. Lady Brienne is my blood."

Jaime nodded silently. Tyrion patted his arm. Cersei stepped out from behind Gregor but stayed a step behind him, in case she needed to hide again. The Queensguard and the Lannister guards relaxed noticeably, now watching Brienne with amazed interest.

"I think we should move this meeting to a more comfortable place," Tyrion suggested. "We must discuss our strategy to defend the realm against the Army of the Dead."

"I haven't agreed to join you," Cersei hissed from the relative safety of Gregor's side.

Daenerys shifted past Jaime to glare at Cersei. Tyrion pressed his hand to his chest, silently asking his queen for permission to handle the matter. Daenerys nodded. Tyrion turned to Cersei who lifted her chin in defiance, even while half-hiding behind Gregor.

"You haven't agreed?" Tyrion shook his head. "Dear sister, it doesn't matter if you agree or disagree. You're no longer giving orders."

Cersei's face flushed. "You can't take over my castle."

"Actually," Tyrion said cheerfully, "we already have. Now, we need to have someone remove Euron Greyjoy's body. The smell is terrible."

Qyburn stepped forward and spoke for the first time. "I can take care of that."

Tyrion frowned at him. "Are you going to experiment on the body?"

Qyburn lifted his chin. "Scientific study is necessary to understand the effects of dragonfire on the human body. Perhaps it interacts differently than normal fire."

Tyrion's frown twisted, as if he was fighting to hold down his stomach contents. He looked to Theon, his eyebrows raised in question. Theon looked at his uncle's body and sneered.

"His next of kin has no objection." Tyrion shrugged. "Please make arrangements to have the body moved to…wherever you wish to take it."

Qyburn nodded and hurried down the hall, his steps so light and quick, he was almost skipping. As he neared the door at the far end, Bronn and Podrick met him at the doorway. Qyburn darted around them, ignored Sandor and hurried down the hall.

"That man is too happy," Bronn noted. "Off to turn some ghosts back into the almost living, is he?"

Bronn took a few steps into the room then stopped, seeing the burned remains of Euron's body. Podrick's eyes widen and he hurried down the hall to Brienne.

"This looks familiar," Bronn commented. "Kinda hoped not to see it again."

"My Lady, Ser?" Podrick skirted the body, eyes wide. "Is everything well?"

Brienne stood up, finding strength to put up a strong front for her squire. "Everything's fine now, Podrick. Euron Greyjoy assaulted Queen Daenerys then turned his sword on the dragons. They didn't like that."

"Dragons?" Bronn took a few more steps then stopped again, now seeing the dragons partially hidden behind Jon and Daenerys. "Fuck me."

The dragons screeched and puffed. Bronn's eyes widened. He looked around the room, from the powerful bloodriders, to Jon and Daenerys with their entourages, to the Lannister guards pressed against the wall, Cersei hiding behind Gregor, Jaime and Tyrion standing side-by-side then, finally, at the remains of the Iron Throne.

"Redecorating? Not my taste but I've never been much for art." Bronn shrugged, struggling to assume his usual flippancy. "The sunlight certainly brightens up the place, though."

Daenerys raised her eyebrows. "Lord Tyrion, who is this man?"

"This man, your Grace, is Ser Bronn of the Blackwater," Tyrion explained. "He was recently knighted but his services can still be bought, for a fee."

"Is this _the_ Ser Bronn you told me about? The one who saved your life in trial by combat in the Eyrie?" she asked.

"One and the same, your Grace." Bronn swept into a low bow but stayed at the far end of the hall. "But don't listen to his stories. Podrick is the one with a tale to tell. Three _tails_ at that."

Everyone turned to look at the young squire. Podrick blushed under their inquiring gazes.

"We went to a brothel, to get some financial records…" Podrick began.

Daenerys raised her hand. Podrick stopped speaking, blushing deeper red.

"I'm aware of Lord Tyrion's proclivities." The queen's voice was cool. "I don't need to hear anymore."

Bronn looked past the queen to the young dragons. "What happened to the big dragon?"

Daenerys frowned at him, eyes narrowed, as if doubting his mental abilities. "You didn't notice the large dragons outside?"

"Outside? We haven't been outside." Bronn came further into the hall, but remained on the other side of the room from the dragons. "Podrick said he wanted to take a walk, visit some of the sights. I thought he wanted to go to Chataya's, but no, he wanted to go into the tunnels under the city. Instead of looking for new tail, he was looking for this stuff."

Bronn pulled a small glass flask from the inside of his jacket. It was filled with an emerald green liquid. The recently anointed knight threw the sealed flask into the air.

"No!" Cersei cried.

Bronn caught the flask with a practiced hand. "Don't worry, your Grace. I won't drop it."

He went to toss it again and Cersei screamed.

"Stop, you fool!" she ordered. "That's wildfire. You'll blow us all to the Seven Hells."

"Huh? I thought it looked familiar." Bronn held the flask up to the light. "If it's so dangerous, why do you have so much of it under our feet?"

"Under our feet?" Jaime repeated. "Where? How much?"

"Everywhere. Shitloads of it." Bronn waived the bottle at Cersei. "Somebody's been very, very busy making their own version of dragonfire."

"Don't shake that, you idiot!" Cersei snapped.

Jaime turned on his sister. "You're stockpiling wildfire?"

Cersei's eyes widened. "No, it was already there."

"Not true," Tyrion said quietly. "Wildfire darkens the more it ages. Look at how light that green color is. It can't be more than a few weeks old."

Jaime advanced on his sister, his eyes glittering with their own brand of wildfire.

Cersei blinked rapidly, like a doe instinctively freezing and telegraphing its distress through its eyes. "I…I didn't know about it."

"You didn't know about it?" Jaime repeated. "You knew Bronn was giving me fighting lessons, you knew I met with Tyrion in the passageways, you boasted about how you know everything that goes on in the city, but you didn't know about wildfire created under your nose?"

Cersei raised her chin but refused to speak.

"I used up almost all of the city's stock of wildfire during the Battle of the Blackwater," Tyrion explained. "I knew there wouldn't be enough to blow up the Great Sept of Baelor, unless Cersei had more made. I sent Podrick into the tunnels look for proof of more wildfire." Tyrion nodded to the flask Bronn held. "And he found it."

Jaime's face drained of all color. Cersei's breathing became audible and she took a step back, to hide behind Gregor.

"You said the destruction of the Sept was a terrible accident," Jaime accused. "You said you had men scour the tunnels to remove every trace of wildfire. Tommen died because of the destruction of the sept."

"Tommen betrayed me!" Cersei burst out. "He chose that simpering bitch Margaery over me. He was going to send me back to Casterly Rock."

Jaime and Tyrion both sucked in their breaths, horror making their mouths drop open. Everyone else watched them in shocked silence. Even the dragons were affected, sniffing the air and hissing softly. Brienne and Podrick shifted forward to touch the dragons, instinctively trying to reassure them their human family would never turn on them the way Cersei had on Tommen.

Tyrion recovered first. "So, you had your pyromancers make more wildfire, drew everyone into the sept then destroyed them all; friends, enemies, family and allies. But you missed Tommen."

"No!" Cersei protested. "Ser Gregor kept Tommen back. I didn't want him to die in –"

She broke off abruptly, realizing what she'd confessed.

"You planned it." Jaime swayed on his feet, as if the truth had shaken him to his very core. "You killed Uncle Kevan, Queen Margaery, hundreds of innocent people…"

"They weren't innocent," Cersei spat. "They all deserved to die. They cheered when the High Sparrow and his wretched followers humiliated me. They threw rocks and filth at me. None of them attempted to defend me."

"And no one will," Tyrion spat right back. "Jaime sacrificed his entire life for you. He gave up his chance to have a family of his own to join the Kingsguard to be with you. He lost his honor preventing Aerys from doing to King's Landing what you did to the sept. Now you've taken Tommen from him!"

"How dare you speak my son's name," Cersei railed. "I will not hear it, not from you."

"I loved Tommen and Myrcella," Tyrion raged. "You know I did. You know it in your heart, whatever twisted, rotted bits of it are left. I loved those children. Now they're gone. You've taken everything from Jaime."

Cersei's rage suddenly morphed into an eerie calmness. She placed her hand on her abdomen. Tyrion's eyes widened as he stared at her midsection.

"Not everything." Cersei's voice lilted, almost dreamy. "There's still one yet to come."

Tyrion took a step back. "You're pregnant."

"Yes." Cersei smiled in triumph, stroking her hand over her ultimate weapon. "I haven't taken everything from Jaime. In fact, I'm giving him the greatest gift. A child he can love and father openly."

A chill slid down Brienne's spine at Cersei's maniacal smile. She appeared blithely happy in spite of admitting to the atrocity she'd committed. Brienne looked at Podrick. He looked back at her with equal shock in his dark brown eyes. The dragons shifted, their tails swishing, bodies stiff as they looked around for an unseen threat. Silently Brienne and Podrick gathered the five closer, trying to shield them from the madness in the former queen's eyes. The dragons allowed it, drawing comfort from their touch, clearly disturbed by the unwholesome emotions radiating from Cersei.

Daenerys and Missandei knelt down beside them, as if also wanting to shield the young dragons. The bloodriders and Ironborn men surrounded them while Jorah, Qhono, Theon and Jon stood in front of them, protecting the most powerful, yet sensitive, creatures in the room.

There was dead silence for a moment, until Bronn tossed his flask again. "Seeing all the crazy in this family makes me almost rethink my plans to marry a high-born heiress." He caught the flask. "Almost."

Tyrion wrenched his gaze away from Cersei. His eyes narrowed as he studied the emerald green liquid. "That's not really wildfire, is it?"

Bronn snorted. "Of course not. You think I'd be stupid enough to carry around unstable liquid death? Podrick explained everything to me in the tunnels then we listened in the hallway. But there's still a shitload of it under the city, including under all seven gates. Someone needs to take care of that." He looked around. "So, is anybody in charge around here?"

Tyrion looked at Daenerys. Daenerys looked at Jon. Jon looked back at her then shrugged. She nodded at Tyrion. Tyrion nodded back and straightened, looking taller and commanding.

"Yes. Queen Daenerys is the rightful ruler of the Seven Kingdoms," Tyrion announced.

Cersei gasped. "I'm queen!"

Daenerys rose and went to stand beside her Hand. She glared Cersei down, an impressive feat, given how tiny the Dragon Queen was and how manic the former queen acted. Cersei looked around and, seeing no support from anyone in the room, slid back so she was half hidden behind Gregor.

Tyrion continued speaking. "Queen Daenerys won the throne, er, kingdom by right of conquest. Her dragons sit atop the Red Keep. Who here wishes to challenge the Dragon Queen?"

He looked around. Missandei and Jorah came to stand behind their queen. The Dothraki followed to line up in support of their Khaleesi, glaring at the Queensguard and the Lannister guards. The Ironborn looked to Theon. He nodded and they also joined Daenerys, Theon beside Jorah and Ironborn men beside the bloodriders.

Brienne looked at Jon. He caught her gaze and smiled reassuringly. He stood tall and straight, a king in his own right with Davos at his side. Jon shifted slightly, symbolically shielding Brienne and the dragons. Brienne's tense muscles relaxed. Podrick looked inquiringly at her and she responded with the slightest shake of her head, the movement a mere hint of a gesture. He lowered his eyes and resumed stroking Catren and Allwyn.

For a terrifying moment, Brienne had feared Daenerys would expect her, as her kin, to also stand behind the new Queen of Westeros. How could she stand behind Daenerys when she had pledged her loyalty to Griff? What would be his reaction to the latest development? How would either Targaryen hold Westeros with the threat of the Night King looming ahead of them? Was Griff already working on a strategy to defeat the Night King? How could he when he wasn't here to strategize with them? Her king had to arrive soon. She couldn't continue without him.

Movement from the other side of the room brought Brienne out of her panicked thoughts. The Lannister guards looked at each other and slowly removed their swords. The bloodriders put their hands on their weapons but didn't unsheathe them. The Lannister guards knelt with their weapons laid out on the floor before them, bending the knee to their new queen. Cersei cried out in frustration but was helpless to stop them. The Queensguard looked at Jaime for direction.

Jaime turned to Tyrion. "What did you mean I lost my honor preventing Aerys from doing what Cersei did?"

"We know, Jaime." Tyrion's eyes became dark and somber. He left his queen's side to cross to his brother. "We know what you did to save King's Landing. The people of this city owe you their lives and they don't even know it."

Jaime's expression was blank for a moment, as if he didn't understand what Tyrion was saying. Then his eyes widened and he looked over at Brienne. She nodded, giving him a small, hesitant smile.

"Lord Stark rushed to judgement," Jon said quietly. "It was a mistake. I want to –"

"A mistake?" Jaime interrupted him. "It wasn't a mistake. It was the destruction of my life. I'm not a broken sword you can mend and reuse. King's Landing still stands because of me. Your father didn't care about how many lives I saved. All that mattered to him was that I'd broken a sworn oath. An oath to a monster who would have blown this city to the Seven Hells if I hadn't stopped him."

Jaime stopped, waiting for Jon's reaction. The King in the North stood quietly, allowing Jaime to vent his frustrations. His calm acceptance seemed to anger Jaime more.

"Your father, the most honorable man in Westeros, tore away my honor, my future, without trial or even justification," he snarled. "What is a knight without honor? I was crippled long before I lost my hand. I just didn't realize it. I've been treated like shit for more than half my life because of your father's _mistake_."

Jon nodded, his expression somber. "I know all about living in shame."

"Because you're a bastard?" Jaime demanded. "You know nothing, Jon Snow. You still had a father who protected you, a future to go towards and people who admired you. Look at you now. You're the King in the North. What have I become?" He held up his golden hand. "The same as I've always been; a cripple, a useless crippled knight."

Brienne couldn't stay silent any longer, not when Jaime was in such pain, raging at the injustices he'd endured.

"You are not useless, Ser Jaime," she protested. "You are a warrior. The Gods need you to fight in the Great War."

"The Gods?" Jaime turned to her, careful not to come closer to the dragons. "What kind of Gods create wars and people insane enough to blow up innocents to satisfy their personal revenge?"

"The same Gods who gave them free will and choices," she answered quietly. "The Gods who know so few people can control their own worst impulses, let alone anyone else's. Those Gods have called upon you to be their warrior."

"Me? That's a jape." Jaime stared at her. "How do you know what the Gods want?"

Brienne closed her eyes but knew the time had come to tell this truth. She opened her eyes to look directly at Jaime. "I know because I'm also one of the Gods' warriors. They led me to the dragons, they made me their keeper, and they gave me the resources to keep the dragons safe."

"What does that have to do with me?" Jaime demanded. "They gave you dragons. They just took from me."

"They gave you what was necessary to become who they need you to be," she disagreed.

"And what is that the Gods need me to be?" The harsh tone was one he hadn't used towards her for a very long time. "What's your proof?"

The dragons growled in warning, clearly not liking his sarcasm. Jamie blinked and leaned away. Brienne placed her hands on Gallan and Serdun, keeping them calm. Podrick had Allwyn in his lap and reached out to stroke Catren and Ardayn. Brienne kept her voice controlled, trying to project her conviction.

"When I first went to Essos, a Red Priestess told me where to find my guide." She leaned closer, trying to look directly into his eyes, though they were across the room from each other. "I didn't want to believe her until she recited the history of _Oathkeeper_. Then she told me you would soon carry _Widow's Wail_, because that's what the Gods needed you to do. It's on your hip now, just as she said. You're one of the Gods' warriors. You're a part of their strategy to destroy the Night King."

Jaime jerked back, his eyes widening.

"Don't you understand, Ser Jaime?" she demanded. "We're not asking for your help because we need your men or a ceasefire. As Euron said, you have almost no loyal bannermen. Cersei saw to that. Theon took back the _Iron Fleet_ so you have no allies. There's only one resource we need from the Lannisters and that is _you_. We need Jaime _fucking_ Lannister fighting on our side."

For a moment there was only stunned silence. Everyone looked back and forth between Brienne and Jaime. Cersei's mouth fell open as she stared at her brother. The Lannister men looked at him as if seeing him for the first time. The Queensguard moved forward, not closer to Cersei but behind Jaime. Brienne looked to Jon. The King in the North moved deliberately, closing the space between himself and Jaime.

"Will you join us, Ser Jaime?" Jon held out his left hand. "Will you help us win the Great War?"

Jaime looked from Jon to his outstretched hand then to Brienne. She held her breath, not daring to move. Jaime looked to Tyrion who nodded vigorously then finally to Daenerys. The Dragon Queen was quiet and still, allowing him to make his own decision. Jaime glanced back at Cersei who peeked out from behind Gregor. His mouth twisted with disgust. Finally, he turned back to Jon, then slowly, hesitantly wrapped his left hand around the king's forearm. Jon's normally somber expression relaxed with relief as he grasped Jaime's arm in return.

The two men broke apart and nodded to each other. The Queensguard shifted behind Jaime's back. The men slowly removed their swords, lay them on the ground before themselves and knelt towards their new queen.

"No!" Cersei protested. "Jaime, stop them!"

"Shut up," Jaime ordered, the wildfire in his eyes darker and more potent than the liquid death stored underneath their feet. "If you weren't pregnant, I'd be tempted to strangle you here and now."

Cersei's matching green eyes suddenly darkened and dilated. She stumbled back, away from Gregor and Jaime, skin paling as if she'd just plunged into a waking nightmare. "Valonqar."

"What?" Jaime stared at her.

Tyrion sighed. "That old trope again? She's been threatening me with it since I was ten years old. She bothered some old woods witch who told her she'd be murdered by a younger brother. She's hated me since I was born so, of course, it had to be me."

Cersei's eyes remained dilated. "And when your tears have drowned you, the valonqar shall wrap his hands about your pale white throat and choke the life from you."

Tyrion held up his hands and turned them for her. "Look at my hands, you idiot. They're not large enough to choke you, though I wish they were."

Cersei didn't bother to look at Tyrion. She stared at Jaime as if he were the Stranger himself. Jaime stared back at her with utter disgust.

"Be thankful you're with child," he informed her. "That child is all that remains between us."

"No!" Cersei protested. "Jaime, we belong together. We were born together. We'll die together."

"Not today." Jaime held her gaze as he slowly, deliberately turned to Jon.

Cersei gasped but Jaime turned away from her. He moved to stand beside Jon, in opposition to his sister. That left only Cersei, Gregor and Bronn standing against Daenerys. Bronn held his flask up to the sunlight and pretended to admire it. Daenerys stared at him then frowned down at her Hand. Tyrion rolled his eyes and shook his head.

"Yes, Bronn," he said. "I'll double what anyone else offers you."

"It's _Ser_ Bronn now." Bronn reminded him before pocketing the flask. "And that price has gone up considerably, being that I'm an anointed knight and all."

Tyrion nodded. "Yes, yes. You want a castle and a wealthy, high-born lady for a wife. It will be done."

Bronn's gaze slid to Brienne and the dragons. "Maybe a castle by the sea and a unique high-born lady." He gave Jaime a bland smile as he came to stand beside him. "It seems I'm developing a taste for blondes, too."

Jaime growled at him but Brienne's focus fixed behind them. Only Cersei and Gregor remained standing to face Daenerys. Cersei's expression went from horror to disbelief, then melted into stark realization. Cersei had lost. Daenerys had cast her down and taken all that Cersei held in a single quick, quiet power play. She'd wrested control of King's Landing from Cersei, without shedding a single drop of innocent blood.

Daenerys Stormborn of House Targaryen, the First of her Name, Queen of Westeros, Queen of the Andals and the First Men, Protector of the Seven Kingdoms, Mother of Dragons, Khaleesi of the Great Grass Sea, the Unburnt, the Breaker of Chains, stepped forward to stand before the remains of the Iron Throne. The proudly unbent Valyrian steel swords formed a frame behind her, an honor guard that had withstood the ages and the madness of kings. She stood in the very center of the seven-pointed star reflecting from the newly exposed stained-glass window, radiant in its aura, the sun heating the glass to glow fire-red. She had fulfilled her destiny. The dragons were finally home.

But one dragon was still missing. Griff's right to rule was stronger than Daenerys's but she'd already taken King's Landing. How would the future King of the Seven Kingdoms react to his aunt seizing the Westerosi seat of power? The last time the dragons had gone to war amongst themselves, it had nearly destroyed House Targaryen. King Aegon the Sixth and Queen Daenerys the First could be the union that restored the Targaryens to their former glory. Or they could become the battle that destroyed the Seven Kingdoms.

Brienne had sworn the young dragons would never be used in the wars of men. But how could she stop them from defending Griff, the man they saw as their father? What about Drogon? Would the dragon turn against the young it had brought into the world? Did its loyalty to the Dragon Queen overwhelm the bond it has with the five? Was Westeros destined for another dance of the dragons? A chill went down Brienne's spine.

Could it be the Night King wasn't their greatest threat?


	20. Council Keeper

**THE KEEPER**

Chapter 20 – Council Keeper

They regrouped in the small council chambers. Brienne and Podrick took the dragons to the furthest point in the room, by the windows. Still, the natural fear of dragons was clearly seen. Visibly shaking servants brought in trays of meats, cheese, bread and wine, glancing fearfully at the young dragons. The taste-testers gulped down food so quickly they were more likely to suffer from choking than poisoning. The five sat up alertly, positioned in a straight line in front of Brienne and Podrick, attentively watching the food being brought in. They were eager for a meal but far too protective to leave the defensive line.

The poor servant selected to bring the dragons' food was sweating profusely, his hands shaking so badly the tray threatened to tumble from his grip. Podrick took pity on the boy and retrieved the tray before the servant came closer to the dragons. It was a good decision as Catren and Allwyn eagerly pounced on Podrick, trying to get to their meal. The servant gasped, shirking back, but Podrick only grinned.

"Mind your manners," Brienne scolded the dragons. "We're among company."

Catren and Allwyn ruffled their wings, tossed raw fish into the air, then roasted and ate their meal in a single, impressive motion. They squawked with delight at the tasty treat. Placid Gallan watched them, waiting for his turn while diligent Serdun and Ardayn continued to guard their family from possible attack. Brienne pulled Catren and Allwyn to her, knowing the little actors would continue their drama as long as they had an audience.

"Gallan," Podrick coaxed. "Dracarys."

The blue dragon came to the bowl and accepted its meal politely, tossing, roasting and eating its dinner with practiced, economical motions. As was their preference, Ardayn and Serdun came last, waiting until the other three had returned to guard positions before leaving their posts. They didn't need to be coaxed, taking their meal without fanfare. Once they finished, Brienne couldn't resist the urge to pull them into her arms and hug them close. Serdun and Ardayn yelped softly, rubbing their heads against her hair. They cuddled with her for a moment, then pulled away to return to the defensive line.

"Damn, they really are just children protecting their mother," Bronn observed, his voice stripped of its usual flippancy. He turned to face Tyrion, seated across from him. "Magical, fire-breathing children but clever and trainable. They just need a strong foster father to teach them battle strategy."

Jaime, sitting beside Tyrion, growled and glared silently at Bronn.

"Nice try, Bronn, but no." Tyrion rolled his eyes while holding up his wine glass. "They already have a strong mother to teach them defensive strategy."

Actually, they had a strong father who had already taught them how to protect and defend their family. Brienne tucked her head, blushing when she realized she and the dragons were the center of attention. Some observers, like Bronn, or the servants and the guards outside the closed doors, watched them with awe and uncertainty. Others, like Daenerys, Davos and Missandei, smiled with indulgent amusement. Tyrion, like Jon, Theon and Jorah, viewed the dragons as powerful warriors to be treated with respect. The Dothraki and the Ironborn treated the dragons with the same focused calm they used on people.

"What's the bloody battle strategy?" Sandor, sitting as far from the dragons as possible, growled. "Are these dragons going to fight for us?"

"No!" Brienne's head snapped up. "They're too young. They know nothing about fighting in a war. I won't allow it."

"They're trainable," Sandor observed. "They can learn."

Brienne's flush deepened but with anger, not embarrassment. Jon spoke before Brienne could.

"No, we are not throwing ourselves thoughtlessly into battle," the King in the North said. "We made that mistake before and it cost us a dragon."

"A dragon?" Cersei, sitting on Jaime's other side, with Gregor standing behind her, repeated. Her eyes glittered. "How?"

"Magic," Daenerys snapped at her.

The new Queen of Westeros had changed out of her burnt coat and Jorah's heavy cloak. She now wore a lighter gown of silver-grey, almost matching Ardayn's coloring. The rest of the gathered team had removed their cloaks and furs, unnecessary in the late afternoon warmth of King's Landing. The cold that had begun to press upon the North hadn't made its way south yet.

Daenerys was seated at the far end of the table, the young dragons beside and just behind her, Tyrion at her right and Jorah at her left. Jon, the other ruling monarch in the room, sat at the other end, closest to the door. Davos was seated to his right and Sandor on the left.

"Your Grace, you said the Night King was getting stronger," Brienne reminded him. "How do you know?"

"I've gotten reports the dead have begun to rise beyond the Wall, south of Eastwath-by-the-Sea." Jon sighed. "Fortunately, the Night's Watch and the Wildlings know to use fire to destroy them. The attacks are limited and isolated, for now, but they need our help. We have sixteen unmanned castles along the Wall. We need to put armies there to watch for activity and be our first line of defense."

"That's not all we have to defend," Varys said coming into the room.

Everyone turned to look at man known as the 'Spider' for his infamous web of informants and backstreet contacts.

"When did you leave?" Tyrion demanded.

"When the dragons attacked the Iron Throne. The smoke irritated my lungs." Varys put his hand to his chest. "One of my little birds came to me in the hall."

"Your little birds are in short supply now," Cersei gave him a cold, mocking smile. "My Hand cultivated them to our side."

Varys calmly settled himself into the chair next to Sandor. "Then perhaps you'll tell us about Dorne?"

"Dorne?" Cersei straightened in her seat. "Dorne has been dealt with. Ellaria Sands is a threat no more."

"That only means Ellaria Sands isn't a threat to _you_, anymore," Tyrion corrected. "But you did nothing to address the real problem. What about Dorne?"

"Their armies are gathering," Varys said quietly.

Daenerys frowned. "We already knew that."

"Yes, your Grace," Varys agreed. "We just didn't know the extent of it."

Jon stiffened. "What is the extent of it?"

"Twenty thousand men are in Sandstone, while another twenty thousand march to Blackmont," Varys announced, "with an open call in Essos for sellswords,"

"They want to take the Reach, starting at Highgarden and Oldtown," Jon surmised. "That will give them the most prosperous lands and richest city in the southlands. There are no armies to stand against them now that House Tyrell and their bannermen are gone."

"What?" Jaime leaned forward in his chair. "Why would Dorne attack?"

"Dorne has been eager to destroy the Lannister family since the deaths of Elia Martell and her children at Ser Gregor's hands," Tyrion reminded him quietly. "They hold Father responsible for the attack and now blame Cersei for the death of Oberyn Martell. They know our dear sister has abandoned Casterly Rock, bankrupted Highgarden, lost the North and the Vale, destroyed the Tyrell armies and crippled the crown with massive debt to the Iron Bank. In short, they know our stupid, impulsive sister has no allies, resources or options. They plan to take as much territory as possible while also striking her in King's Landing."

"I did what I had to in order to protect our house," Cersei hissed. "They were all my enemies."

"You're about to end our house," Tyrion corrected. "If Queen Daenerys wasn't here to protect it, King's Landing would fall to Dorne in mere _hours_. You'll be remembered as the worst ruler in Westerosi history. The one who brought four of the seven kingdoms she was supposed to protect to ruin, lost another two then was slaughtered by the last. Given the terrible kings who came before you, that's an accomplishment." He snorted. "And you have the nerve to call Jaime the stupidest Lannister."

Cersei hissed in her breath and glared daggers at her youngest brother. Jaime looked between them, his eyes widening as he finally understood the enormity of the near-disaster Cersei, and his blind faith in her, had almost caused.

"Will they still try to strike once they learn I'm now Queen of Westeros?" Daenerys asked. "Should we send an envoy to them to try to avoid the conflict?"

Sandor snorted. "Dorne doesn't want an envoy. They want Cersei and my brother's heads on spikes to decorate Sunspear." He gave his brother an ugly smile. "I say we send them, with our regards."

Cersei leaned back in her seat and placed her hand protectively on her abdomen. Gregor growled but remained standing tall and strong behind Cersei. Jaime and Tyrion both stared at their sister then back at Sandor.

Daenerys looked thoughtful. "That could be enough to bring Dorne to our side. I'm agreeable to sending their heads, with or without bodies, if it will avoid a war that will be detrimental to both sides."

Cersei gasped and looked pleadingly at Jaime. Tyrion and Jaime exchanged horrified looks then turned to Daenerys.

"What about my child?" Jaime demanded. "You say you need my help. Why would I help those who deliberately killed my baby?"

"Your Grace, you know I have no love for my sister," Tyrion spoke quietly. "I ask you for mercy for my brother and his child. You have always prided yourself on protecting the innocent. This baby is innocent, with no responsibility for the horrors my family has inflicted. Don't torture my brother by taking away the only true joy in his life."

Daenerys's mouth tightened. She looked down to Jon seated at the other end of the table. Jon's expression was as somber as usual, but his eyes were dark and fathomless. He looked at Tyrion then Jaime, his mouth turning down in a conflicted frown.

Brienne had no love for Cersei but Jaime did. The Gods' had demanded Jaime as a warrior in the Great War. His refusal to fight with them could result in the loss of thousands of innocent lives or even their complete destruction against the Night King. Cersei may have brought her house to near ruin but her death might doom them all.

"Your Graces, think of the greater good." Brienne said. "We need Ser Jaime in the Great War. He has pledged his support, despite the bad blood between him and Houses Stark and Targaryen. All he asks you in return is to protect his child. We need him on our side. There must be a way to reason with Dorne."

Jon and Daenerys looked at each other, sharing silent communication. Jon nodded and Daenerys nodded back.

"Very well," she agreed. "Lord Tyrion, I'll spare the false queen." She paused deliberately. "For now."

Tyrion took a deep breath and looked at Jaime. The brothers nodded to each other. Cersei gritted her teeth but wisely said nothing.

"Is there time to request a meeting, Lord Varys?" Jon asked. "How long before Dorne strikes?"

Varys frowned. "It's hard to say, your Grace. The men marching to Blackmont will arrive in a few days, a week at most. Then they must rest and march north into the Reach. I believe we have a month, at best, before their armies are in striking distance of Highgarden. Once they have the Reach, they'll have more strength to take King's Landing."

"That's enough time to send an envoy to Sunspear." Jon looked at Daenerys. "They may pull back their banners once they know the Targaryen armies will defend the southlands."

"But to who do we send an envoy?" Varys asked. "They're still haven't chosen a new prince."

"To whom," Davos corrected. "Someone must be in charge and giving orders. Forty thousand men didn't decide, on their own, to mobilize."

"Lord Varys, can your little birds find out who's in charge?" Jon asked.

"They can try," Varys agreed.

"Perhaps you should ask my Hand," Cersei suggested coldly. "His network of little birds is better than yours."

"If so, why didn't he know the most powerful army in Westeros was about to bring its wrath down upon you?" Varys's voice was calm and unruffled.

Cersei blinked silently, unable to provide a reply.

"What if Dorne doesn't pull back their men?" Daenerys asked. "We need my armies to aid the North. Should we use the _Golden Company_ to protect the Reach and the Crownlands?"

Cersei gasped softly, blinking rapidly. Jaime, focused on the conversation, ignored her reaction.

"The _Golden Company_ isn't here," Jaime pointed out. "They're in Essos. How is a mercenary company in Essos going to help us?"

There was dead silence for a moment. Brienne held her breath and exchanged concerned glances with Podrick. Jaime didn't know. How could Cersei expect to win a war without telling her battle commander about her plans? Jon and Daenerys looked at each other, then at Jorah and Davos and finally to Tyrion. Tyrion swallowed visibly and nodded. He turned to look at Jaime.

"Cersei didn't tell you, did she?" Tyrion asked quietly.

"Tell me what?" Jaime demanded.

"Cersei put the crown into deep debt with the Iron Bank of Braavos to hire the _Golden Company_. Euron was supposed to bring them over from Essos." Tyrion explained.

Jaime stared at Cersei. "You plotted with Euron Greyjoy without telling me, the commander of your armies?"

"And you conspired with Tyrion, the man who murdered our father, without telling me, your queen," Cersei shot back.

"I didn't conspire –" Jaime began but Cersei cut him off.

"You met with him in secret," she hissed. "You choose him, the imp who murdered both our mother and our father, over me. He's the enemy, they're all our enemies."

"Tyrion saved our unborn child." Jaime spoke through gritted teeth. "He saved you, not because he loves you, but because he loves _me_. If only I'd chosen him over you, all those years ago, my life would have been very, very different."

The twins glared at each other. Everyone else looked around, unsure what to do. The dragons hissed and pulled back their defensive line, close enough for Brienne and Podrick to stroke and reassure them. Finally, Tyrion put his hand on his brother's arm.

"We can't change the past, Jaime," Tyrion said quietly. "We can only go forward. The realm needs your help. Focus your brilliant military mind and help us determine how to protect the people of Westeros, _all_ the people."

Jaime tore his gaze away from Cersei and breathed deeply. Brienne could almost see him regain control of himself. His spine straightened and his shoulders squared into fighting stance. Like the skilled military commander he was, he put aside his personal problems to focus on the greater threat.

Jaime looked around the room, as though reorienting himself. "How many men can the _Golden Company_ give us?"

"We estimate twenty thousand, between fully trained officers and highly trained squires," Jorah spoke, "plus horses."

"What about elephants?" Tyrion asked. "They have elephants, don't they?"

Theon shook his head. "Our ships can't hold the weight of fully-grown elephants. Even if they did, the weight would slow us down. Such large beasts won't survive being confined on ships for well over a fortnight."

"That's only half the size of the army Dorne is preparing," Jaime noted. "The _Golden Company_ is the best fighting force in Essos but they don't know the layout in the Reach. They'll be against an army twice their size with the tactical advantage of knowing the territory and skilled in raid and ambush attacks."

"So, what's our best strategy?" Jon demanded.

Jaime looked around the room again. His gaze settled on Brienne.

"Our best strategy is a show of force," Jaime decided. "Don't use the _Golden Company_ to protect Highgarden, use them to protect Brienne and her dragons."

"What?" Brienne's voice rose to such a high octave it nearly cracked. "What do you mean?"

Her heart beat so fast she was nearly breathless. Did Jaime know about Griff and her connection to the _Golden Company_? How could he possibly know? She exchanged horrified glances with Podrick, who had gone pale.

"The dragons are more powerful than any army," Jaime pointed out. "No one can stand against them for long. Take them to Dorne and show the Dornish what they face if they march north."

"No." Brienne began shaking her head before he even finished speaking. "I won't take the dragons into battle."

"You don't have to take them into battle," Jaime assured her. "You only need to take them into a parlay. If they can do again what they did earlier today, show people they're real and powerful, even as the smallest Targaryen dragons, Dorne will back down."

"He's right," Jorah agreed. "Dorne has close ties to Essos. Their generals know what happens in the Bay of Dragons and the free cities. The Unsullied was the greatest slave army in the known world, until they were freed by Queen Daenerys. The Dothraki, the greatest untamed warriors, follow Khaleesi Daenerys. The _Golden Company,_ the greatest paid army, has accepted a contract to serve the same queen. The three most powerful forces in Essos have consolidated behind the Targaryen banner."

"What about the poisons and ambush attacks the Dornish use?" Brienne questioned. "How will we keep the dragons safe from those?"

"That's why you'll take the _Golden Company_ with you," Jaime reminded her. "They'll protect the dragons. The problem will be finding men in the company who can be around the dragons without upsetting them."

Brienne looked at Podrick again. His eyes were as wide and stunned as she was sure hers were. Could it really be that easy? Could Griff, Tristan and the crew of the _Sea Keeper_ walk in the front gates of King's Landing and be welcomed as the dragons' defenders? The future King of the Seven Kingdoms could be ready and in position in the matter of a fortnight.

"The problem is time," Theon pointed out. "It'll take at least a month to go to Essos and bring back the _Golden Company_. We may not have them here soon enough to prevent Dorne from attacking."

"They have some ships of their own," Jorah pointed out. "We don't need the full company to go with Lady Brienne. We only need a hundred or so men. We'll send a contingent of Dothraki and Unsullied with her, too. The _Iron Fleet_ will take them to Sunspear. That will show Dorne the three most powerful armies and the most powerful naval fleet are Targaryen, standing with Lady Brienne and the dragons."

"The _Shy Maid_," Tyrion said suddenly.

Brienne frowned at him. "I'm not a shy maid."

Tyrion shook his head. "No, not you. I just remembered the name of one of the boats the _Golden Company _had in Valyria. It stuck out in my mind because of how plain and unadorned it was. I remember someone boasting it may not be the prettiest but it was the fastest and most powerful. He said he wouldn't trade it for all the beauties in the world, because his was the best."

"The _Shy Maid_ was a four-cabin pole boat," Jorah clarified. "It worked well in the shallows of Valyria but cannot bring a full company of men across the Narrow Sea."

"But they do have other ships," Varys said. "I heard they brought on a former Lyseni pirate to be their master-of-ships. They've had great success curtailing the pirate raids near the free cities. They've also set up a base in Tyrosh."

"Lord Tyrion, send a raven to Harry Strickland," Daenerys commanded. "Request a hundred men sent to us immediately. They can be here from Tyrosh in a week, perhaps less if they have favorable winds."

"Who is Harry Strickland?" Jaime asked.

"The commander of the _Golden Company_," Jon explained. "He reached out to us after signing the contract to defend Westeros."

"The _Golden Company_ is supposed to be famed for never breaking a contract,' Cersei hissed. "They're broke it by conspiring with you."

"No, they didn't," Tyrion informed her calmly. "You're just as poor at negotiating contracts as you are at running a kingdom. You signed an agreement pledging the _Golden Company_ to the Queen of Westeros, not to Cersei Lannister."

Cersei froze, mouth opening in shock. Tyrion grinned at her.

"The _Golden Company_ is honoring their contract," he said cheerfully. "Queen Daenerys will command them to protect Lady Brienne and neutralize the Dornish threat."

"Your Graces," Missandei spoke. "Should we attempt to bring another of these creatures to the parlay with Dorne? Perhaps if they saw what we're trying to protect the realm against, they'll lay their animosity aside and join us?"

"It's too dangerous to go beyond the Wall," Daenerys protested. "The Night King has already taken Viserion. I won't allow him to have another of my children."

"He won't," Jon assured. "The dead are attacking even outside the Wall, so we don't have to risk going against the Night King yet. You've made a good suggestion, Missandei, but time is against us. We don't know when or where the dead will rise next. Brienne will go into the parlay with her dragons and the Targaryen armies."

Brienne shook her head. "Your Graces, I'm not a politician. I don't know how to persuade Dorne to halt their battle plans."

"You underestimate your skills, Lady Brienne," Daenerys insisted. "In any case, you won't go alone. Lord Tyrion will accompany you. Sending my Hand and my kin, along with a showing of my military, will show my respect and my might to Dorne. Lord Tyrion's silver tongue will flatter them while your dragons will bring them to their senses."

Brienne relaxed and nodded. She was no diplomat but Tyrion was experienced at persuading and speaking. Plus, Griff and the _Golden Company_ would be with them. They'd keep the dragons safe. Griff's study of history and prior battles might give them leverage in the negotiations with Dorne.

"Maybe Lady Brienne should tell them she's the Gods' warrior, get them to fear holy wrath," Bronn suggested, grinning at her. "How did she become the God's warrior, anyway? Did my invitation get lost in the shuffle? I'd be happy to raise dragons."

Catren, the leader of the five, hissed and swished its tail. Allwyn fanned out its wings, showing off their impressive width, while Gallan focused its bright, reptilian eyes on the recently anointed knight. Serdun and Ardayn continued their focus on Cersei and Gregor, the only true threats to Brienne in the room.

"Fuck me." Bronn's eyes widened. "They understood what I said."

Tyrion shook his head and sighed. "They understand you're looking at them and their mother like they're the finest wares on the Street of Silk. Put your eyes back in your head before those dragons gouge them out."

Bronn jerked and immediately turned back to the table. Tyrion snickered while Jaime huffed with annoyance.

"Bronn often acts like an idiot but he brings up a good point," Jaime said quietly. "Brienne, how did this happen to you? How do you know you're the Gods' warrior?"

Everyone looked at her, once again silent as they waited. The hated blush flushed her face again. Why did everyone have to ask her questions? Why couldn't they accept the truth on faith alone? Hadn't the Gods done enough; bringing dragons into the world and commanding them to destroy the Iron Throne, thus revealing the precious Valyrian steel swords? If the Gods' actions weren't enough to convince them, what good were her words? Even so, she had to try.

"I prayed daily to the Faith to give my life meaning and allow me to serve a just king," Brienne said, her voice throbbing with conviction. "Two priests, one who follows the God of Water, the other the God of Fire, guided me. Both told me I had a great purpose. Then the Seven answered my prayers with dragons and a king who will _serve_ his people, not rule them. I've been given so much and understand even more is expected of me. I serve my king and _all_ the Gods to the best of my ability. I _am_ their warrior."

Everyone stared at her in wordless awe, silenced by the glowing conviction in her face and the dragons, the Gods' gift, lined up before her, ready to burn down the world in her defense. Then Jon shook his head, as if coming out of a trance, breaking the frozen tableau.

"Thank you, Brienne." His voice was gruff and a bit muffled, as if he had trouble speaking. "I'll do my best to justify your faith, and the Gods' faith, in me."

Brienne blinked and lowered her head. She had stupidly told everyone she followed a just king. Jon thought she meant him, when she'd really meant Griff, the future King Aegon the Sixth. Now she had no choice but to allow Jon to believe she'd meant him. Jon was a good man but he hadn't been raised to be a king, nor did he choose to be one. He didn't study history or previous battles; he didn't speak multiple languages or have contacts all over the known word. He didn't even want the responsibility of leading and caring for the North. He'd accepted it because the people believed in the Stark bloodline. It was almost a cruelty since Jon wasn't even allowed to carry the Stark name.

"How, Brienne?" Jaime asked again. "How did this happen to you?"

Brienne took a deep breath to compose herself. "When Podrick and I left King's Landing, after delivering you, we found Sandor and Arya on the road to Gulltown."

"What?" Jon interrupted. "Sandor was with Arya?"

"Yeah," Sandor nodded. "I kept trying to give her back to your family but they died before I got to them. First your brother Robb at the Twins then your Aunt Lysa at the Eyrie. Then I ran into your blonde dragon. She pushed me off a cliff and I lost Arya."

Jon looked from Sandor to Brienne then back again. "Brienne pushed you off a cliff?"

"I didn't know he was protecting Arya," Brienne explained. "I thought he kidnapped her. Arya refused to talk to me after he pointed out my Lannister sword."

Sandor grunted. "She said she'd take Arya to you at Castle Black but she had Lannister gold. I thought she'd take your sister back to King's Landing. Arya ran from me after the fight."

"Arya is back at Winterfell now, home, where she belongs." Jon blinked back sudden moisture. "I thank you both for protecting her."

There was another long silence. Then Ardayn squawked and ruffled its wings. Jon broke out of his sudden pensiveness to smile at the silver-grey dragon who had accepted his bond. Brienne stroked its long, rough neck.

"We thought Arya might go to Braavos, since we met her and Sandor on the road to Gulltown," Brienne continued. "Once there, we met a saltwater priest who told me of five visions and sent us to Tyrosh."

"Five visions," Jaime repeated. "Did those five visions lead you to the five dragons?"

"No," Brienne shook her head. "The visions were all about Lady Sansa. I believed him because the first vision had already come true. He sent us on to Tyrosh and told me to hurry because –" She broke off, eyes widening in horror.

"Because what?" Jaime demanded.

"The Night Queen," Brienne whispered.

"What?" Daenerys asked. "Who?"

"The saltwater priest told me I had to hurry," Brienne's voice trembled. "He said the reign of the Night _Queen_ will soon begin."

"The Night Queen," Jon repeated. "Not the Night King? Are you sure?"

Brienne nodded, still stunned. Podrick cleared his throat.

"He said more than that, remember, my Lady, Ser?" he prodded.

"Podrick, what did he say?" Jon demanded.

Podrick swallowed. "He addressed my Lady by name, your Grace. She asked him how he knew her. He said 'You are chosen. Your destiny was foretold in the stars before you were born.' Then he told her to hurry. 'Hurry, Brienne of Tarth. The reign of the Night Queen will soon begin.' Those were his exact words."

Jon shook his head. "We saw him. Jorah, Sandor, Queen Daenerys, and I. We all saw him, it was a man, a king, not a queen."

"Maybe the priest was mistaken," Theon suggested. "Our priests aren't learned men. Most can't read or write."

"No, he wasn't wrong," Podrick insisted. "He wasn't the only one who said it."

"Who else?" Jorah asked, his voice rough and deeper than usual. "Who else said it, Podrick?"

"The Red Priestess," Brienne answered. "The one who knew the history of _Oathkeeper_ and said Ser Jaime would soon carry _Widow's Wail_. She said it, too."

"What were her exact words?' Jon demanded.

Brienne frowned as she thought back. Podrick cleared his throat again. Brienne nodded to him.

Podrick looked at Jon. "She said 'Have faith, Brienne of Tarth. You will return to Tyrosh reborn and step into a destiny brighter than the flames themselves. But you must hurry, Lady Brienne. You know, for you have already been told. The reign of the Night Queen will soon begin.' She also knew of the Night Queen."

"Does that mean there's another threat we haven't encountered?" Jorah asked. "Does the Night King have a Queen? Does she have his powers?"

"Or is he looking for a queen?" Jon asked grimly. "The Night King had been contained by the Wall for over five thousand years, with few issues. Now he attacks the living to build his army. And his powers are growing so strong he can raise the dead even from beyond the Wall. What changed? Why?"

"The dragons," Missandei said softly.

"What?" Daenerys looked at the five, who looked back at her, calm but alert. "They're fine."

"No, your Grace, I mean the dragons are what changed," Missandei clarified. "My life, your life, all of our lives changed when we came in contact with the dragons. They're creatures of magic. You told me the Warlocks of Qarth stole them and tried to chain you because they wanted the dragons' magic."

"Yes," Daenerys gasped as her eyes widened. "The warlock in the House of the Undying told me when my dragons were born, their magic was born again."

"Does that mean the dragons' magic is feeding the Night King's magic?" Jorah's face drained of color. "Does the Night King want to hold you like those warlocks did? Does he want you for his Night Queen?"

"That could be why his powers are growing," Tyrion suggested. "Viserion is a creature of magic. Magic never died, even when the dragons did over three hundred years ago. It became dormant. Now magic is strong, even able to create new dragons. The Night King is feeding on Viserion's magic, even before raising him."

"Wait, wait, hold on here," Bronn put up his hand. "Raising him? Are you saying this Night King will turn a dead dragon into one of those creatures you keep talking about?"

"He will if we can't stop him," Jon admitted.

"Right then, I'm out." Bronn stood up. "It's all well and good to fight dead men but dead dragons are where I draw the line."

"You faced a live dragon," Jaime reminded him. "You even shot him with a scorpion bolt."

Daenerys's eyes narrowed. "That was you?"

"It wasn't personal," Bronn assured her. "I wouldn't have done it if he hadn't tried to set me on fire. And it was stupid luck that I hit him at all. Those gears were so damn heavy could barely hold the shots."

One of the dragons growled. Brienne looked down at the five. Ardayn and Serdun were focused on Cersei and Gregor while Catren, Allwyn and Gallan watched Bronn with interest. She looked up and blinked when she realized it was Daenerys who had growled.

"Your Grace, we've all done terrible things in battle," Brienne said gently. "We've agreed to put the past behind us. We must be united to fight our common enemy."

Daenerys took a deep breath and forced herself to relax. She nodded. Bronn pushed back his chair and went to the door. Catren, followed by Allwyn and Gallan, flew past him to land before the doorway, barring his exit. The dragons hissed and puffed, spreading their wings to block the door. Bronn stopped so abruptly he nearly overbalanced. He circled his arms in windmill fashion to keep from falling into the dragons.

"You said you wanted to father dragons." Tyrion leaned back in his chair and crossed his arms. "You're in luck. Apparently, they don't want you to go."

Bronn put his hands up, as though in surrender. He tentatively slid his foot forward. Catren screeched while Allwyn and Gallan closed their wings and stepped forward. Quickly, Bronn slid his foot back. Allwyn and Gallan also stepped back, beside Catren again. Bronn took a full step back. Catren folded in its wings. All three watched Bronn back away and relaxed their stance.

"Does that mean I can't leave now or forever?" Bronn slowly walked backwards towards his chair, never looking away from the three dragons.

"You should probably plan on forever," Jorah advised. "They have your scent now and they're excellent trackers."

The dragons waited until Bronn sat down then flew back to Brienne. They rejoined the defensive line and watched Bronn shift in his seat.

Bronn pulled on the bottom of his jacket to straighten it. "Sometimes it's a curse to be so damn desirable."

"Yes," Tyrion agreed dryly. "I know all about it."

Bronn glared at him, not at all happy. Brienne wasn't happy either. She recalled Griff's words.

_Magic is a power. It was dormant for so long because there wasn't enough energy – dragon's blood – for it to draw upon. Dragons and magic are now coming back into the world._

She's been so happy, grateful to have the dragons and a purpose in life. She hadn't understood magic, like all power, could be corrupted and used for evil just as easily as it could be used for good. She looked down at the dragons, the future rulers of the world. She'd naively thought they'd be as good and as kind as she raised them to be, as honorable and as fair as her own father.

But there were other forces involved, forces that could turn dragons and, possibly even the Dragon Queen, into creatures of darkness. How could they fight a threat that used their own power against them?

How could something as insignificant as her love overcome such evil?


	21. Curse Keeper

**THE KEEPER**

Chapter 21 – Curse Keeper

Brienne followed Qhono to the suite assigned to Queen Daenerys. The dragons followed after her. The five hissed and snapped, acting more like overtired children than the most powerful creatures in the known world. The leader of the Dragon Queen's bloodriders nodded to them but otherwise didn't appear affected by being followed by the five. The servants and guards in the hallway, however, froze or shrank back against the walls until they passed.

The dragons' behavior was understandable. They had flown down from Dragonstone and spent the entire day on guard duty. They hadn't even had their midday naps. Allwyn and Catren, especially needed the rest, probably because they expended the most energy with their theatrics. But even Serdun and Ardayn, her most ardent guards, snapped and hissed, equally tired and out of sorts. Gallan simply followed after the others, snapping back but not involved in their display.

"You'll sleep in just a little while," Brienne promised. "Queen Daenerys requested we visit her."

Qhono nodded. "Khaleesi commands."

His Common Tongue was rough but understandable. The dragons squawked again, looking around with glassy-eyed, tense interest. Qhono stopped in front of a door guarded by bloodriders. Although they had bent the knee to Daenerys as their new queen, none of the Queensguard was present. Brienne couldn't blame the Dragon Queen for not trusting men who had been in the service of Lannisters and Baratheons. They would have to work hard to earn their new queen's trust.

Qhono knocked on the closed door. It was opened almost immediately by Missandei. She had changed out of her dark gown into a lighter, pale yellow dress. Missandei nodded and spoke to Qhono briefly in Dothraki then stepped aside to allow Brienne and the dragons to enter.

"Welcome, Lady Brienne," Missandei smiled warmly.

The suite, while not the actual royal chambers, was still sumptuous with polished wooden furniture, heavy red drapes and fabrics in Lannister red and gold. The glass doors leading to the balcony were open, bringing in the cool night air and the sound of rushing waves. The dragons, sensing there was no threat to Brienne here, began exploring the space.

Daenerys came in from an attached room, now dressed in a lighter pink gown, a duplicate to the one Missandei wore. It was odd to see the queen in simple clothes, without her triple-dragon crests, structured coats and with her thick, waist-length hair hanging loose down her back. Brienne was struck by how young and vulnerable the new Queen of Westeros looked.

"You asked for me, your Grace?" Brienne stood tall and straight, feet shoulder-width apart, arms crossed behind her back.

Daenerys smiled and nodded, then looked past her to the dragons. She laughed softly. Brienne turned to see what had amused her and gasped. The dragons, eyes heavy with sleep, had draped themselves over the elegant cushions and elaborately carved sofas, ripping into the fine red and gold materials as they burrowed into comfortable positions. Brienne turned to rouse them but stopped when Daenerys put her hand on her arm.

"Let them to sleep," the queen advised. "They've had a long, busy day."

"But they're ruining the silks and velvets," Brienne protested.

Daenerys's mouth curled into a sneer. "Let them. Once we've defeated the Night King and I properly take my place as ruler, I'll remove every sign of the Lannisters."

Brienne nodded and returned her attention to the new queen. Daenerys exchanged glances with Missandei then tugged lightly on Brienne's arm.

"Come, let's sit," the queen urged.

She guided Brienne to the overstuffed chairs and sofas. Brienne sat down on a heavily cushioned sofa. Immediately, Allwyn flew into her lap. Daenerys sat on the couch opposite her, where Catren and Gallan already lay. The Dragon Queen was so tiny, she was able to slip between them without requiring the dragons to shift their positions. Both allowed Daenerys to rest her hands on them but looked to Brienne for approval. Brienne smiled then turned to Ardayn and Serdun, sitting quietly near the windows.

"Ardayn, Serdun, māzigon naejot issa," she called softly.

The dragons needed no further urging to come to her, settling on either side of her on the wide sofa. Brienne lifted her arms so the two could snuggle against her, pressing their heads against her shoulders. Daenerys and Missandei, who had seated herself in a cushioned chair near her queen, watched her in thoughtful silence.

"You sent for me, your Grace?' Brienne prompted.

Daenerys nodded and smiled down at Catren and Gallan. She stroked them in a calm, rhythmic manner, causing their eyes to droop heavily with sleep. Allwyn had already closed its eyes while Serdun and Ardayn leaned more of their weight against Brienne.

"Why are you here, Lady Brienne?" Daenerys asked, still calming Brienne's dragons with gentle, loving strokes.

Brienne frowned. "Qhono asked me to come to you. Or at least, that's what I thought he said."

Daenerys looked up, still caressing the dragons. "I don't mean here, in this room. I mean, why are you here in King's Landing or even Westeros?"

"I…I don't understand, your Grace," Brienne shook her head. "I came to attend the parlay, to gather support for the Great War."

"But why?" Daenerys pressed. "I'm here because it's my destiny to rule the Seven Kingdoms. I was born to it. I brought dragons back into the world and, with them, the rebirth of the Targaryen empire. King Jon is here because his people are being attacked by a creature of magic. He needs my dragons to fight the threat. You weren't born to rule, nor have you become a ruler. You were on your way to Essos. Why are you risking your life, and your dragons' lives, by being here?"

Brienne mimicked the queen's action, stroking Serdun and Ardayn in the same slow, soothing strokes. "I only planned to go to Essos for the dragons. Westeros is my home. I'm the heir of Tarth, my father's only heir. The people of Tarth look to me to secure their future. It's my duty to protect them."

Daenerys rested her hands on Catren and Gallan. "What about your duty to your children? Do they not deserve your protection?"

Brienne's hands also stilled. "Of course, they do, your Grace. I've done everything in my power to protect them."

"Power," Daenerys murmured. "Do you even understand how much power you truly have? You have five dragons. I understand hiding them when they were too small to defend themselves. But now, they've shown they'll protect you from any threat. You can easily take a ship to Essos, wait out the Great War, gather armies, then come back as a conqueror."

"Conqueror?' Brienne blinked. "I'm not a conqueror, your Grace, I'm a knight. My duty is to follow my king, not to seize power for myself. That's why I won't take the dragons into battle. I don't want them exposed to a world where innocents suffer and good men die for bad reasons."

"All the more reason to take them away from here," the queen argued. "Your first duty should be to these five. If you're lost, who will care for them?"

Brienne looked down at the dragons surrounding her. Allwyn was already asleep. Serdun and Ardayn shifted on the cushions, finding better positions while still pressed against her. "I have bonds. My father, Podrick and my…"

Brienne stopped herself from repeating the same mistake as before. She had almost said 'king' again. Her cheeks flushed with unwanted color. It was hard for her to lie in the best of times, but faced with Daenerys's extraordinary beauty, so much like Griff's, it was almost like talking to Griff himself.

Daenerys and Missandei exchanged glances. Daenerys's expressive eyebrows raised while Missandei cleared her throat.

"And your king?" Missandei finished for her. "Your dragons have accepted King Jon but is that enough for him to care for them in your absence?"

Brienne ducked her head, trying to hide the deepening color. She struggled to find a suitable answer. What could she say? She didn't dare say anything that might give away Griff's claim or Jon's mistake of thinking he was her 'just king.' The Dragon Queen observed her for a moment then abruptly changed tactics.

"Why did you take the dragons into the Red Keep during the parlay?" she asked.

"To keep them safe." Brienne released her breath slowly, grateful the queen no longer wanted to discuss the difficult topic. "I knew they were in danger, left out in the open. Worse, they could have become a danger to others if they were provoked and fired on guards."

"But you didn't take just your dragons to the Red Keep," Daenerys's voice hardened. "You took mine as well."

Brienne shook her head vehemently. "No, I didn't take them. They choose to follow us, to keep the young dragons safe."

Daenerys leaned forward, but still touched the now-sleeping dragons on either side of her. "Do you see the problem this presents, Lady Brienne? I conquered the slave cities in the Bay of Dragons because my dragons were at my side. Now, their loyalties are divided between me and the five dragons Drogon brought into this world."

So, this was the true reason for Daenerys's meeting. She was worried about her power again. Her dragons were her ultimate weapons, she needed them at her side. Drogon's offspring may have brought her the joy of new life but they weakened her control over her children, thus weakening her power. Even Rhaegal had left her to protect the young dragons.

"We have the same goal," Brienne pointed out quietly. "We all want to keep the dragons safe. These five are Drogon's children. It's a parent's natural instinct to protect their child. Losing Viserion has made Drogon and Rhaegal diligent about protecting the five. They're family."

"As are we, Lady Brienne," Daenerys sat up. "You're my kin, my father's granddaughter. You carry the blood of the dragon. You're Targaryen."

Brienne hesitated but the truth couldn't be denied, especially with proof sleeping peacefully on the cushions around them. "Yes, your Grace, I am."

"Yet you pledge your loyalty to another, not to your own flesh and blood," Daenerys noted.

Brienne stilled as she suddenly realized Griff was also her kin. They were both grandchildren of Aerys. Griff was the same age as her, as they had both been born on the night of the red comet. Daenerys, their aunt, wasn't interested in family relationships. She wanted Brienne to support her blood ties to her kin over her loyalty to her king, whom she believed to be Jon. Brienne's words, though heartfelt, had endangered not only Griff, but Jon as well. Now, she had to be careful not to cause more conflict between Jon and Daenerys, as well as protect Griff.

"Your Grace, I pledged my loyalty to my king before I met you." Brienne spoke carefully. "I must honor that pledge until he or I die. Would you really want a subject whose loyalty can be swayed easily; whose vows are as fleeting as the wind?"

Daenerys was thoughtful for a moment. "No, I would not. I'd rather have an honest man before me than a false man behind me."

"I prefer to stand before you, your Grace. There is no honor in being false behind you." Instead, Brienne was being false to Daenerys's face. How did she get herself into this mess?

"Lady Brienne, King Jon represents the North, a region that wants independence, that wants to reject my rule." Daenerys's voice hardened. "Even so, I've gone into battle for the North, I've lost a dragon fighting for the North. I'll continue to fight for them. It's my duty as Queen of Westeros. Do you consider my actions honorable?"

Brienne nodded. "Yes, very honorable."

"Do you believe it is in the best interest of the North to separate from Westeros?" the queen questioned.

"No, I don't," Brienne admitted. "But I understand it. The Lannister rule, following the death of Robert Baratheon, has been brutal for the North. They've suffered under the cruelty of Joffery, the indecision of Tommen and the viciousness of Cersei. They want a leader they know will think of their best interest before his own."

"Have I not demonstrated I'm thinking of the North's best interest?" Daenerys demanded.

Brienne paused. Daenerys waited. The dragons were all in deep sleep now, snuggled against the warmth of their mother and Drogon's mother. They were deeply tired and didn't sense a need to protect their mother from their grandmother. Brienne took strength from that knowledge. The queen had every right to question her, to determine if her kin would stand beside her.

"No, your Grace, you have not," Brienne replied honestly.

Daenerys blinked. "I see."

She again traded glances with Missandei, who had been observing their exchange quietly. She looked back at Brienne.

"How do you feel I've let them down?" the queen asked.

She didn't sound angry or offended, merely curious. Brienne took that to mean the queen wanted to hear the honest truth.

"You've aided the North, which was a great mercy. But you didn't do it for the people. You did it for yourself, because you considered yourself undefeatable." Brienne looked at Daenerys directly, showing there was no falseness in her answer. "You fought, not because you wanted to protect the North, but because you want to rule it."

Daenerys stiffened but regarded Brienne calmly. Color highlighted her cheeks but her response was controlled and measured. She nodded as if considering her words.

"And rule it I shall," she vowed. "King Jon has promised to bend the knee to me when I win the battle against the Night King. If he does so, will you honor his pledge? Will you also accept me as your queen?"

Brienne took refuge in evasion, saying only the portion of the truth the queen wanted to hear. She'd had enough practice with selecting her words that they no longer sounded false, even to her own ears.

"My father taught me honor, duty and service are the cornerstones of good leadership." Her voice was steady. "Those are the traits that make for a good knight and a good king. I pledged my sword and my loyalty to a king who has shown me his honor, his sense of duty, who has fought for me and who has supported and shielded me when I needed it. Where he leads, I shall follow. He is an honorable king and I am an honorable knight."

"An honorable knight," Missandei repeated. "Is that how you see yourself, Lady Brienne? Not as a lady to be courted and cosseted, but as a warrior who fights and defends the innocent?"

Brienne nodded. "I do."

"And your faith in your king is unwavering?" Daenerys demanded.

Brienne nodded again. "It is."

Daenerys's eyes crinkled with her glorious smile. "Good. I'm glad of it."

Brienne straightened, startled. "You are?"

"Yes, of course," Daenerys nodded.

Brienne shook her head, her eyes narrowing in confusion. "But…but I just told you I follow my king, not you."

Daenerys's smile didn't dim. "You told me to my face. You're true to your loyalties and honest about what you see as my shortcomings. That's what I want, what I need, in those around me. A ruler can lose touch with her subjects, even without sitting on a horrible throne, fifteen feet above them. And I will rule. I vow soon all of Westeros will once again unite under the Targaryen banner. Do you believe that will happen, Lady Brienne?"

"Yes, I do, your Grace."

Brienne did believe but she'd given her loyalty to a different Targaryen. One who didn't believe it was his right to rule. It would be his duty; one he would carry out with mercy and humility. A king who would understand the sufferings of his people because he had gone hungry, been poor, worked at hard labor and learned from the mistakes of the past.

"You are the heiress of Tarth. You know one of the most important things a lady, or a queen, can do for her people is to ensure the continuity of her rule," Missandei said. "Our queen's hard work and sacrifices will be for naught if she doesn't have a successor."

Brienne nodded. She knew, once they won the Great War, it was her duty to return to Tarth and ensure the survival of her people. The dragons were the greatest joy in her life but Tarth needed her to produce a human child to carry on their family line. It was even more important for a ruler to have an heir.

"I see your conviction when you talk about your just king," Daenerys's eyes became dreamy and unfocused. "A man who can inspire such devotion in his subjects must be a good man indeed. And King Jon is quite handsome, isn't he?"

"What?" Brienne could barely keep up with the queen's thought process. "I hadn't really noticed, your Grace."

"You hadn't?" Daenerys's eyes narrowed. "You have no romantic interest in King Jon? Your love for him is only as a loyal subject loves her king?"

"No, yes," Brienne shook her head. "I mean, I have no romantic interest in King Jon, I assure you."

"Do you know of any attachments?" Daenerys probed. "Has his betrothal been promised?"

Brienne stared at her blankly. "I wouldn't know, your Grace."

"It won't create tension between you and King Jon if I pursue his attention?" the queen asked.

_That's_ what this was about? Daenerys didn't want to question Brienne's loyalty. She wanted assurance Brienne wouldn't be a rival for Jon's affections. How could she think Brienne had Jon's favor? Did the queen honestly think Jon would choose a plain, masculine warrior over the startling beauty of the new Queen of Westeros? How could she, whom Cersei had described as 'less than a man, less than a woman,' compete with the splendor of queens?

Brienne shook her head again, more emphatically. "No, not at all. I have no romantic interest in King Jon's attentions, none at all."

"Are you sure?" Daenerys pressed. "I don't want to intrude or hurt you, Lady Brienne."

"Positive. He's too short for me," Brienne blurted out.

Her eyes widened and color rushed into her cheeks. Daenerys and Missandei burst out in peals of laughter. Oddly, it didn't sound harsh or cruel, the way most people laughed at her. Daenerys's eyes crinkled and Missandei laughter lit up her face. The darker-skinned woman leaned over to put her hand on Brienne's arm.

"Oh, Lady Brienne," Missandei gasped, still giggling. "If you could see your face now. You're so red I'm afraid you've hurt yourself. May I offer some wine to calm you?"

Her words made Daenerys laugh even harder, so much so, the queen slumped back on the sofa, looking more like a carefree young woman than a powerful ruler. Catren and Gallan shifted but didn't waken. Daenerys managed to control her laughter but her deep violet eyes still sparkled with amusement. She leaned over and took Brienne's hand.

"Ahh, Lady Brienne, you're wonderful." The queen worked hard to contain her mirth. "I'm so glad we found each other."

Brienne stared at her. No one had ever called her wonderful before. Lady Olenna had called her marvelous but Brienne hadn't been sure if the late Queen of Thorns had been complimenting her or mocking her. Daenerys squeezed her hand again before releasing it to accept the wine glass from Missandei. Brienne shook her head to indicate she didn't want the drink.

"King Jon clearly holds you in high regard, Lady Brienne," Missandei noted as she settled back in her seat. "He's very protective of you."

"Of course, he is," Daenerys sat straight again. "King Jon is loyal to all his people. He defended Lady Brienne against Ser Jamie's accusations as fiercely as he defended his men against the Night King at Eastwatch. He gave me wise advice on Dragonstone when we lost the Iron Fleet and he gives me good counsel even now." Her expression grew thoughtful. "Sometimes, we don't even need words to communicate. I can look at him and know what he's thinking. He's a good man, indeed."

"A marriage between House Stark and House Targaryen would solve many issues." Missandei sipped her wine with delicate grace. "The North will accept you knowing they're still under the rulership of King Jon. The lords of the Vale and the Riverlands will also accept your rule through King Jon. The Reach and the Stormlands will go to the _Golden Company_, also under your rule. The union will make you stronger. A child of the wolf and the dragon might be powerful enough to one day rule the world, not just Westeros."

The thoughtful, dreamy smile on Daenerys's face faded. "The stallion who mounts the world."

Brienne and Missandei stared at her, Brienne drew her eyebrows in confusion while Missandei's expression softened with concern.

"Stallion?" Brienne questioned.

"I almost had a son from my marriage to Khal Drogo." Daenerys's voice was so soft, Brienne had to lean closer to hear her. "The wise women said my son would be the khal of khals, the king of kings. He was supposed to unite the Dothraki into a single horde that would overrun all the lands of the world. Instead, a witch I trusted, who I tried to protect, betrayed me. A betrayal of blood that cost me my son and my husband."

Missandei put her glass down and went to Daenerys. She took the wineglass from her queen's hand. Daenerys didn't seem to notice, her gaze inward, reliving the pain of her past. Missandei put the glass aside and took her queen's hands in her own.

"Dany," she said firmly, "Come back. The past is over."

Daenerys blinked, coming out of her painful memories. She looked at Missandei and Brienne and gave them a wan smile. Missandei pulled her chair closer to sit beside Daenerys, carefully avoiding Gallan's tail, which trailed to the floor.

"I'm sorry," the queen apologized, "I know no good comes from visiting dark memories."

"Our past cloud our history but we cannot allow it to darken our future," Missandei insisted. "Your child with King Jon may yet bring you glory."

"The witch cursed me before she died," Daenerys said. "I don't think I can have children."

"What?" Brienne frowned. "How can a witch take your ability to produce a baby?"

Daenerys told her the story of Mirri Maz Duur, the witch who'd cursed her before Daenerys had her tied to Drogo's funeral pyre.

"What did she say to you, your Grace, that was a curse?" Brienne asked.

"Dany," Daenerys said.

Brienne frowned. "I beg your pardon?"

"My brother called me Dany," the queen explained. "It used to upset me, mostly because he only used it when he wanted something from me. But now, when I hear it, I know it's someone close enough to me to see me as family, to call me by my family name. You are my blood, Brienne, my kin. I wish for you to call me Dany."

Brienne blinked, unsure of what to say. She swallowed hard and nodded. "Thank you, your Grace."

Daenerys shook her head. "No, I'm not 'your Grace' in private. Not when I can throw off the expectations of others, the robes of queenship, the ornaments of rulers and the, frankly, tedious braided hairstyle of Khaleesi. When alone, together as we are now, we're a family who shares a common goal. You'll help me bring order and stability, create a better world for the people. Please, call me by my family name."

Brienne smiled. "Yes, _Dany_."

Daenerys's smile was bright enough to light up the room. Missandei nodded in warm approval while Brienne blushed furiously.

"Dany, back to our conversation. What did the witch say?" Missandei prompted.

"I asked her when Drogo would be well again." The light in Daenerys's eyes dulled. "She said 'When the sun rises in the west, sets in the east, when the seas go dry and the mountains blow in the wind like leaves.' That's how she cursed me, by describing an impossible day."

Brienne stiffened, feeling as though she'd been thrown in the icy waters of the Bay of Seals. Her blood throbbed burning hot while her skin froze with icy chill. "The witch didn't curse you. She told you about Viserion's fate."

Daenerys and Missandei both stared at her, shock and confusion tightening their features.

"What do you mean?" the queen demanded.

"I learned priests, witches, sages, all people of faith, see visions as images," Brienne explained. "For example, the saltwater priest who led me to Lady Sansa saw a bird carry away a wolf. That's not possible as a wolf is much bigger than a bird. It meant a man from a house with a bird sigil took Lady Sansa, the wolf. As King Jon said, it's not the prophecies that are false, it's the interpretation. The witch explained her vision based her personal knowledge and bias."

"The witch didn't give me a vision," Daenerys argued. "She didn't intend to guide me."

"No, she intended to hurt you," Brienne explained. "You named your dragons after your husband and brothers and refer to them as 'he'. You consider them your sons, don't you?"

Daenerys nodded hesitantly, her face draining of color. Her hands shook visibly as she pressed them together in her lap. Missandei placed her hand over Daenerys's in a soothing gesture.

"But what does it have to do with Viserion?" Daenerys's demand was more of a plea.

"When the son rises in the west," Brienne repeated. "The Night King is trying to raise your son, Viserion, here in Westeros."

Daenerys drew her breath in on a harsh gasp. Missandei tightened her hands around the queen's.

"And sets in the east," Brienne continued. "Viserion went down at Eastwatch by the Sea, the Night's Watch castle on the Bay of Seals, furthest to the east."

Daenerys breath came out in a helpless cry as shocked tears spilled from her eyes. Missandei pulled their joined hands closer, trying to give her queen her strength.

"When the seas go dry," Brienne quoted. "Most people in Essos have never seen frozen lands. She described what she saw based on what she knew. The lands north of the Wall look like the desert, but with ice instead of dirt."

Daenerys rested her head on Missandei's shoulder, her tears wetting her advisor's gown.

"The mountains blow in the wind like leaves," Brienne finished softly. "The Night King brings the winter storms with him. The mountains blow snow in the wind like leaves."

Missandei unclasped her hands from Daenerys's so she could wrap her arms around the now sobbing queen. Brienne watched her with aching sympathy. She rose from the sofa, put Allwyn down on the warm cushions and went to the women. She knelt so she was on eye level with the queen.

"The witch didn't curse you," Brienne said gently. "She told you the truth she knew would cause you the most pain. She took one child from you and described the death of another. I'm so sorry, Dany."

Daenerys put her arm around Brienne's shoulders, drawing her closer. The three women's heads almost touched as the queen sobbed uncontrollably, perhaps feeling safe to do so in the warmth of their embrace. Brienne suspected Daenerys cried not only for her lost dragon, but also for her unborn child and husband, too. Had she ever taken time to mourn her losses, or had her relentless drive for conquest buried the pain of her heartbreaks?

Eventually, the queen's tears slowed then finally stopped. Brienne gently guided her back into the cushions while Missandei rushed to bring her wet cloth. Daenerys cleaned her face and took deep, calming breaths. Her eyes were dark and haunted but she still mustered a small smile for them.

"Thank you," the queen whispered. "Thank you both. There was a time when I was surrounded by nothing but treachery and betrayals, even from my own brother. I feared I would never have people to trust, a true family. But day by day, my family grows and, with it, my power. You are my strength. With you by my side, I'll become the greatest ruler Westeros has ever known."

"You know I'll never betray you," Missandei vowed. "Dany, you must forget that prophecy from the House of the Undying. Remembering it does you no good."

"What prophecy?" Brienne asked. "Does it have any bearing on our battle with the Night King?"

Daenerys shook her head, then paused. "I heard a voice say 'Three treasons will you know, once for blood and once for gold and once for love.' I believe Mirri Maz Duur committed the blood treason."

"Ser Jorah committed the gold treason. He came into Dany's service because Robert Baratheon paid him," Missandei explained. "But he deeply regrets his actions and saved our queen many, many times. Even a betrayal is not a final, bitter act. Ser Jorah learned from his disgrace and is more devoted now than ever."

Daenerys nodded. "Yes, that's true. But I face another betrayal, this time for love."

"No one who loves you will betray you, Dany," Missandei insisted. "We're your family, your protectors. Our family now includes another fierce warrior, her loyal squire, her wise father and five new dragons. We're stronger than ever."

"Perhaps someone will betray me because of their love for another," Daenerys suggested. She looked directly at Brienne. "Who do we know who's engaged in a love that's poisoning his very soul?"

Brienne gasped. "Ser Jaime? You think Ser Jaime will betray you for Cersei? But he knows what she's done, the lies she told, the secrets she's kept from him. He knows his sister doesn't have his best interest at heart."

"Love doesn't die simply because it's the wisest choice," Daenerys pointed out. "Logic and reason have nothing to do with love."

"_Gold can be replaced, honor can be subjugated, bones can be broken but love cannot be destroyed."_

Brienne heard Griff's voice in her head and bit into her lower lip. She didn't believe Jamie would knowingly betray Daenerys but Cersei was clever. She knew how much Jaime loved her and had a lifetime of experience using that knowledge. She was also the mother of his unborn child, his final chance to have a family with the woman who was his entire life. Jamie would do anything for his family. It was the weakness that had broken him time and time again.

"We're here with you," Missandei reminded her. "Even if Ser Jamie proves false, we're still true. He may never betray you or, like Ser Jorah, his betrayal will only make you stronger. You gain nothing from worrying about an event you can't control."

Brienne nodded. "My father often says, 'Don't borrow trouble. You pay interest on a loan that may never come due.' Please, have faith in Ser Jaime. He will honor his vows."

Daenerys studied her for a moment, then nodded. "Very well. I trust you and Lord Tyrion. You both trust Ser Jaime. I'll wait for events to unfold themselves. I'm very tired now. We'll continue this discussion another day. I'm sorry to have kept you so late, Brienne."

She rose wearily to her feet, her shoulders drooping. Missandei rose with her, still holding her queen's hands comfortingly. Brienne stood, looked at the heavily sleeping dragons, the furniture they'd rearranged during their conversation, then at the wet cloth the queen has used to clean her tears after sharing her painful past. Brienne's muscles tightened with a sudden, desperate need. She turned to the other women.

"Dany, may I stay here tonight?" she asked quietly.

Daenerys's brows drew together questioningly, but she readily nodded. "Of course, Brienne. Are you chambers uncomfortable? Do you need larger rooms to share with the dragons?"

"No," Brienne shook her head. "My room is fine. It's just that you're sad, I mean, the dragons are sad. Or will be sad when I wake them. They're so comfortable and I…I…"

She stopped, unable to express the anxiety she felt, unwilling to upset the already fragile queen. Daenerys was the most powerful woman in Westeros, the mother of dragons, the leader of two of the greatest armies and the greatest naval force in the known world. Even with all that power, she was only human, absorbing blow after blow from the relentless hand of fate. The nervous energy rose inside Brienne like a wave, pressing against her heart until her breathing became labored.

Daenerys walked back to her. "You mean you want to stay so I have the comfort of family close." She took Brienne's hands in her own. "So I know I'm not alone here, in a new bed, in a new city, surrounded by people who don't know and don't trust me."

The pressure inside Brienne grew stronger. Many times, when she'd been in Renly's Kingsguard, she'd offered her services but been sneered at or laughed off. Not by Renly or Margaery, but by the other guards. They'd taken great pleasure in their cruelties, those men who had the nerve to call themselves knights, but who didn't have a fraction of the character or kindness of truly good men like Tristan Rivers or Serjeant Loth.

"Thank you, Brienne, I'd love to have you stay here." The queen looked around. "Shall we call for extra bedding?"

"No need," Brienne assured her. "These sofas and cushions are more comfortable that most of the places I've stayed in my travels. I don't need a thing."

Daenerys smiled. Missandei went to the balcony, shutting and securing the doors. Brienne pulled out her sword and laid _Oathkeeper_ on a side table, close to her hand.

"Valyrian steel," Daenerys remarked.

"Yes, it is," Brienne confirmed as she removed her sword belt.

"It's beautiful," the queen said quietly.

Brienne reached for the sword. "Would you like to inspect it?"

"I wasn't talking about the sword, Brienne. I was talking about the warrior." Daenerys clarified.

Brienne froze. "What?"

"Valyrian steel is a special material, stronger and more resilient than ordinary steel," Daenerys noted. "Some say only dragonfire, blended with great magic, can forge such a mighty instrument.  
Most people never notice its unique properties. One must look carefully to see the difference between the ordinary and the extraordinary. But once they know, they recognize it instantly."

Missandei came back to join Daenerys. Brienne stared at the women, tiny, beautiful and delicate, looking at her as if she were the breathtaking one.

"You, Brienne, are Valyrian steel," Daenerys announced quietly.

Brienne froze. The two women gave her warm wishes for a good night and left, Daenerys into the adjoining room and Missandei by the hallway door. Silence had settled on the sitting room before Brienne overcame her shock to whisper her thanks. The ladies were gone and dragons were asleep but her gratitude was still heartfelt. She's never been good at accepting compliments. They were too rare in her life. But the queen's declaration hadn't made her feel uncomfortable or distrustful. It seemed right, even true.

The Gods' instruments, the weapons hidden in the Iron Throne and their warrior, were made of Valyrian Steel; strong, resilient and extraordinary. They would fight the Great War and they would defeat the Night King. The Gods had given her strength and resilience to guard their dragons, powerful allies to stand with her and prophecies to guide them. Even so, there were those who would work against them, who would put their own goals above the common good. Daenerys knew that, Jon knew that and even Brienne understood. They had to be careful and wary but couldn't allow their concern to distract them from the battles ahead.

She settled on the floor, leaving the couches to the sleeping dragons. Brienne glanced around the quiet, still room. Moonlight glinted off the handle of _Oathkeeper_, the rubies shining like stars in the darkness. The pommel had been damaged during the fight aboard the pirate ship, when the cloth strips covering the distinctive lion design had caught fire. The gold had softened, making the lion looked aged and battle-worn, molding the handle to fit her hand perfectly.

_Brienne snatched up her sword, the pommel still hot but not unbearable. She rolled onto her knees, looking for a target. Someone came up behind her, she held up _Oathkeeper_ to block the thrust. She turned to face her opponent when a sword appeared pushing out of his chest. The man fell forward, revealing Griff behind him, _Firestorm_ dripping with the pirate's blood._

Her heart began to pound as she remembered the moment when Griff had saved her from the pirates. Griff was her king, the man to whom she's pledged her loyalty and service. A chill passed through her as she named the anxiety that coursed through her. It was _guilt_, the gut-wrenching knowledge that she was the treasonous one the Dragon Queen feared. Jamie wouldn't betray Daenerys, Brienne would.

Daenerys thought she'd secure Brienne's loyalty through a union with Jon, have Brienne at her side without forcing her to compromise her oaths. She thought she could _trust_ Brienne. Brienne admired Jon for his courage and sacrifices, just as she admired Daenerys for her strength and resiliency, but she wasn't pledged to him. Both rulers thought they held Brienne's loyalty; unaware her true king was still in the shadows.

_Three treasons will you know, once for blood and once for gold and once for love._

Yes, Brienne admired Jon and Daenerys but she was lying to them. She liked them, was grateful to have their assistance and would fight with them but she would not follow them. She loved her king and the world he would build. Griff held her loyalty. She would commit treason against the new Queen of Westeros, help another strip her of her crown. It was a truth she couldn't ignore.

Brienne herself would wound Daenerys, inflict the betrayal for love.


	22. Conference Keeper

**THE KEEPER**

Chapter 22 – Conference Keeper

Brienne arrived at the council chambers the next morning, carefully smoothing down the delicate silk material she wore. The clothing had been on the bed when she'd returned to her chamber after spending the night in Daenerys's sitting room. Guilt and worry had kept her tossing for much of that time. It wasn't until Allwyn had abandoned the comfortable sofa to snuggle with her that Brienne had relaxed enough to sleep. Now this unexpected gift, no doubt from Daenerys, brought the remorse crashing back in heavy waves.

The modified gown, a bright blue hue that almost matched her eyes accented with splashes of rose pink, fell to her knees with graceful pleats and slits up to the hips on both sides, a gentle gathered vee neckline and a long, straight sleeves. She wore it over new, closely fitting fawn-brown breeches and polished brown flat boots. The gown was surprisingly comfortable, the cleverly cut armholes and pleated back allowing for free movement. The wide, deceptively delicate-looking woven belt was sturdy with a built-in sheath for _Oathkeeper_ and even slots for storing daggers.

"Good morning," she said politely.

Catren and Allwyn flew past her to investigate the room while Gallan remained in front of her and Ardayn and Serdun guarded her back.

"Good morning, Lady Brienne," Tyrion replied.

He was seated in the middle of the meeting table, Bronn beside him while Podrick, Varys and Theon sat across from him. The other men murmured greetings while Catren and Allwyn landed by Podrick. He stroked and greeted them. After getting the attention that was their due, the pair flew across the table to land beside Bronn, making the knight stiffen as he watched the dragons uneasily. Tyrion snickered.

"Good morning, Catren, Allwyn, did you sleep well?" Tyrion asked.

The dragons screeched at him. Tyrion nodded as if he understood their response. Gallan flew in to join them. The blue dragon looked up at Tyrion, patiently waiting.

"Good morning, Gallan," Tyrion responded dutifully. "You're in fine form today."

Gallan screeched then looked to Ardayn and Serdun, still with Brienne. They remained at their positions until Brienne went to the table. Then the dragons went to greet Podrick before joining the other dragons to prowl around the large room.

Bronn relaxed and grinned at her. "Lady Brienne, blue is definitely your color."

"It is, isn't it?" Daenerys, sounding pleased, spoke from the doorway.

They all rose as the queen, followed by Missandei, Jorah and Qhono, entered the room. Brienne blinked when she saw both women were also dressed in similar modified gowns over fitted breeches. Daenerys's gown was light purple with gold accents and a finely worked gold metal belt while Missandei's dress was deep rose with silver accents and a less ornate steel belt.

Daenerys went to her position at the head of the table. Brienne turned to take her seat at the side table by the windows, while the dragons stopped prowling, watching her alertly. Podrick also jumped up from the large table to join her.

"Lady Brienne, please stay at the main table," the queen commanded.

"Your Grace, the dragons make some people uncomfortable," Brienne protested.

"Those people are free to leave," Daenerys responded. "Your input is important. Please remain with us."

Podrick looked at Brienne inquiringly. She nodded and her squire sat back down in his chair. She was about to sit down beside Bronn when Jon, Davos and Sandor came into the room. Jon and Davos greeted everyone and went to their seats. Sandor remained at the door, eyeing the dragons uneasily.

"Sandor, the dragons will only attack you if you try to hurt Brienne," Jon reminded him. He looked the bigger with humor in his eyes. "Do you intend to let Brienne beat you again?"

Sandor grunted and glared at the King in the North. Finally, he shook his head.

"Then sit down," Jon ordered.

Sandor reluctantly sat down across from Davos. Catren, Allwyn and Gallan flew to the corner and spread out their wings to enjoy the sunshine spilling into the room. Ardayn and Serdun stopped beside Sandor's chair. Sandor froze. Bronn grinned at him.

"Don't look 'em in the eyes," Bronn advised. "They take that as a sign of aggression."

Sandor stared straight ahead, eye's wide. Bronn snickered at him.

"And don't snicker," Tyrion shot back. "They'll think you're insulting them. Isn't that right, Catren, Allwyn?"

Catren and Allwyn, who'd settled on a sofa behind Brienne and Bronn, screeched at hearing their names. Bronn jerked and froze, his eyes as wide as Sandor's. Everyone else, except Sandor, snickered at the knight. Bronn flushed bright red and glared at Tyrion.

"Shall we begin?" Daenerys asked before the meeting devolved any further. "Lord Tyrion, what do we need to discuss today?"

"Ser Jaime isn't here yet," Brienne reminded her. "Shouldn't we wait for him to join us?"

"I'll send a servant to fetch him," Tyrion offered.

He went to the door and opened it to reveal Qhono along with several other bloodriders guarding the room's entrance. A cluster of servants stood beside them, watching the Dothraki with a blend of awe and fear in their eyes.

"I know where you were," Cersei's voice, throbbing with fury, was clearly heard. "Who you were with."

Everyone turned to look but the former queen didn't appear in the doorway. Her voice continued to echo in the hall. Tyrion returned to his seat but left the door open.

"You spent the night in that cow's room," Cersei continued, her voice shrill with rage. "You went to her because she's the only person who feeds your pathetic ego."

Brienne flushed and looked around the table. Everyone else was still looking at the door, their expressions ranging from indifference to disgust, impatience to annoyance. They apparently didn't understand Cersei referred to her as 'that cow.' Why would Cersei even think Jaime would come to her? Brienne looked back to the entrance as Jaime appeared in the doorway. His hair was mussed and his eyes haggard, but he wore fresh clothes and polished boots.

"Good morning," he said quietly, as if they hadn't heard Cersei's furious accusations. "Forgive my tardiness."

Cersei appeared in the doorway seconds later, Gregor at her shoulder. Her face was flushed red and her hands were clenched in anger. She saw everyone staring silently at her and made a visible effort to control her fury. Her breasts rose and fell with her deep breaths and the color faded from her face as she forced herself to relax.

"The Queensguard was at my door all night." Cersei's lips barely moved as she spoke. "They wouldn't allow anyone in or out of my room. I had to dress myself this morning."

Instead of the elaborately layered crimson and gold gowns the former queen normally wore, she was dressed in a simple plum dress with laces along the bodice. Even so, she still projected the aura of the polished, elegant lady.

"They were there for your protection," Daenerys said, her voice calm and mild. "No one else can be trusted with your safety."

"Ser Gregor is my protection," Cersei hissed. "I don't want cowards who knelt to _you_ at my door."

"Perhaps you'd prefer to stay in the cells," Daenerys suggested. "You're not the queen nor are you even wanted. You live solely as a courtesy to your brother. Lord Tyrion asked my mercy for his brother's unborn child. Otherwise, I would have executed you the second I became Queen of Westeros." Her voice hardened. "Now sit down and shut up."

Tyrion and Jaime exchanged tense glances but didn't speak. Cersei blinked, her mouth rounding in horror. Spine straight, she stepped to the table, Gregor moving with her. The dragons hissed and formed a line between her and Brienne.

"You'll sit in the corner," Daenerys ordered. "Your creature must return to your chambers."

"He will not," Cersei insisted defiantly.

Catren, Gallan and Allwyn moved forward, changing their defensive position from a straight line to an arrow formation. Serdun and Ardayn moved closer together, keeping Brienne protected. Catren moved to the point position with Allwyn and Gallan at its sides. They took another step closer, their reptilian eyes fixed on the former queen's bodyguard. Cersei gasped and stepped back hastily, stumbling behind Gregor. Gregor obediently shifted back, trying to keep distance between Cersei and the cold-eyed threat.

"Order him to return to your chambers before the dragons turn him into ashes," Jon advised. "If they're forced to kill him, the cells will be the only place to keep you until your child is born."

Cersei looked from Jon to Daenerys, cold rage glittering her wildfire green eyes. She gritted her teeth and stepped out from behind Gregor.

"Ser Gregor, return to my chambers," she ordered.

Gregor nodded, turned and left the room. Qhono closed the door but remained in the hall. Cersei regarded the dragons then carefully walked backwards until she came up to the sofa against the wall. The former queen sat down with grace and dignity, her back straight, her chin lifted, appearing unbowed by the dragons' cold glare.

The dragons relaxed visibly when Gregor left the room. They turned their backs on Cersei, not considering her a threat on her own and went back to prowling around the room. Sandor and Bronn stiffened but everyone else at the table relaxed.

Tyrion unrolled a scroll. "I have a list of actions for the day."

"First, I'd like to discuss the meeting Brienne, Missandei and I had last night," Daenerys said quietly.

"How charming," Cersei said, her voice dripping poison. "Was that when you made the very important decision of what to wear today?"

Tyrion studied the three women at the table. "I hadn't noticed but my dear sister is quite right. You do all look charming."

Daenerys and Missandei accepted the complement with sweet smiles and nods. Brienne blushed red and ducked her head. Behind her, Cersei snorted with disdain.

"What meeting?" Jon asked. "Why did you have a meeting without us?"

"Missandei and I wanted private time with Brienne," Daenerys explained. "We spent the night discussing personal matters, including two prophecies I'd been given."

She told them about the witch's words and Brienne's interpretation of them. They were all quiet for a moment then Davos spoke.

"I spent a lot of time with Stannis and his Red Woman." His gentle voice hardened. "She did terrible, terrible things but she did do some good." He looked pointedly at Jon then turned back to Daenerys. "Prophecies have value, are repeated over and over again, because they can be interpreted and applied in many ways."

"So, you don't think it referred to Viserion?" Daenerys questioned.

"I didn't say that, your Grace," Davos assured it. "I said prophecies are layered and can apply to many situations, past and future."

"I think what Ser Davos is trying to say is that the prophecy may have begun but not ended," Jon offered. "Maybe it's a clue to the future and not a record of the past."

"Let's break it down," Tyrion suggested. "Go over it again, piece by piece."

"When the son rises in the west," Daenerys said softly.

"The Night King hasn't raised Viserion yet," Jon said. "The Night's Watch is keeping a close eye on the sky at Eastwatch. They've posted a watcher at the top of the Wall at all hours. But there's long stretches of the Wall unmanned. We must hurry to put armies in all the abandoned castles."

"And sets in the East," Missandei quoted the next portion of the prophecy. "We thought that meant Viserion setting down at Eastwatch-by-the-Sea."

"If the prophecy hasn't started yet, Viserion hasn't risen, perhaps that's a clue to where we'll defeat the Night King," Jorah suggested.

"Perhaps," Jon agreed.

"When the seas go dry," Brienne spoke the next line. "I thought that meant north of the Wall, since a person who has never seen snow would think of frozen land as dry seas."

"It could refer to any place where the Night King goes," Davos pointed out. "He brings the winter storms, remember?"

"But the waters must be shallow for the sea to freeze," Theon pointed out. "It can't refer to the Bay of Seals or the Narrow Sea. They're too deep to freeze completely."

"True," Jon agreed. "What was the rest of it?"

"The mountains blow in the wind like leaves," Daenerys said.

Jon shook his head. "That doesn't fit. Eastwatch-by-the-Sea has some hills but none tall enough to be called mountains. Only the Frostfangs, on the west side, have true mountains."

"But Viserion went down in the east," Jorah pointed out. "Does that mean our confrontation with the Night King will be in a location other that Eastwatch?"

"If the Night King's powers continue to grow and he raises Viserion, he can meet us anywhere," Jon's mouth tightened into a grim line. "He can turn any place into the Land of Always Winter."

"So, what do we do?" Brienne asked anxiously.

"Prepare," Jon answered simply.

"Right," Tyrion agreed. He looked down at his list. "I sent a raven to Harry Strickland asking him to send us one hundred men on his fastest ship. His response flew in only a short time ago. He says the _Sea Keeper_ can arrive in King's Landing in eight days."

Brienne exchanged glances with Podrick. His eyes shone but he kept his features calm. Griff would be with them in eight days. She only had to manage the next week then her king would arrive to take charge. Jon was doing his best but he wasn't a military leader. The King in the North had emerged victorious in battles on open ground with flesh-and-blood enemies similar to himself. Now they were preparing to go against a creature of magic, who'd had five thousand years to plan his assault. Jon had never created or studied battle plans against a foe as formidable as the Night King.

"I also sent ravens to Andres Yronwood and Edric Dayne, the lords of their houses," Tyrion continued. "House Yronwood and House Dayne are the most powerful houses in Dorne after House Martell. I've asked them both to set up meetings in Sunspear but I haven't gotten replies."

"Lord Varys, have you any success in locating the person controlling Dorne's military?" Davos asked.

"Not yet but my little birds are working on it," Varys assured.

Cersei snorted but they ignored her, all except Jon. He frowned thoughtfully.

"Perhaps Cersei is right," he suggested. "Qyburn also has a well-developed spy system. Lord Varys, go to him after our meeting. Perhaps your combined efforts will yield faster results."

"Take guards with you," Tyrion instructed. "I don't trust anyone in my dear sister's service."

Cersei hissed but wisely said nothing.

"Next, prisoners," Tyrion noted.

"Prisoners?" Daenerys repeated. "What about them?"

"My dear sister never needed a reason to imprison people." Tyrion explained. "There might be some value in seeing who's down there. Maybe there are potential allies or valuable prisoners we can exchange for support or goodwill."

"No!" Cersei jumped up from her seat. "You won't free her. I won't allow it. She murdered my daughter. My only daughter. She walks free over my dead body."

Everyone turned to stare at her. The former queen was again red with rage, her body vibrating with her emotions. The dragons flew across to Brienne's side.

Daenerys looked from Cersei to Tyrion. "Lord Tyrion, what is she talking about?"

"Ellaria Sands," Jaime answered for him. "She was Prince Oberyn Martell's paramour. She took revenge for Oberyn's death by poisoning Myrcella. I'd gone to Dorne to bring Myrcella back after we received a threat on her life. She died on the voyage back to King's Landing. She died in my arms," Jaime's voice broke, "just after she told me she was glad I was her father."

Tyrion, seated beside him, put his hand on his brother's shoulder and shut his eyes. Bronn, sitting on Tyrion's other side grimaced, his eyes downturned. Everyone else looked at Jaime with quiet sympathy. The table was still for a moment. The stillness was broken by Cersei's harsh gasp.

"That witch will die," Cersei vowed. "She'll die as slowly and painfully as I can manage it."

"She also murdered Princes Doran and Trystane," Sandor pointed out. "If you're unwilling to give Cersei and my brother to Dorne, maybe they'll take this Ellaria instead."

"No!" Cersei cried. "_I'll_ kill her. _I'll_ watch her die."

"The only way you'll watch her die is if I put you in the next cell," Daenerys snapped. "One more outburst from you and that's where you'll be, baby or no baby."

Cersei was so angry her breathing was audible. She clenched her hands into fists, her body shaking with barely contained rage. The dragons reformed their defensive line between Cersei and Brienne, this time with a new formation. Ardayn and Serdun faced Cersei while Gallan, Catren and Allwyn faced Jaime, who was also nearly hyperventilating.

Brienne looked between the brother and sister, drowning in their grief over the loss of their daughter. Tyrion was also near tears, his face crumpled as he tried to regain control over his emotions. The dragons were tense and ready, having picked up on their throbbing emotions. They didn't care about the Lannisters' pain. The dragons would burn anyone who reacted suddenly, who might potentially hurt their mother.

"Perhaps we should allow the Lannisters to return to their chambers," Brienne suggested.

"No!"

The cry came from several people, simultaneously. Jaime, Tyrion and Cersei's refusals were expected but Daenerys's was not. Brienne turned to look at the queen.

"I don't want her anywhere near her creature," Daenerys explained. "I trust Gregor less than I trust Cersei, which is not at all. She goes into the cells."

"No," Jaime protested. "There's no need for that. She can be kept in another room, away from Ser Gregor."

"The gardens," Brienne suggested quietly. "They're quiet and private with fresh breezes. The Queensguard can watch her there. Plus, Drogon and Rhaegal are flying overhead. They'll burn Ser Gregor the moment they see him. He threatened the young dragons."

Brienne wasn't sure if the bigger dragons would burn Gregor on sight. Cersei believed it, judging by the harsh glare the former queen directed at her. Sandor made a sound somewhere between a growl and a grunt but didn't speak. Gregor also remained silent and stoic.

Jaime rose from his chair, some of the tense misery easing from his face. "I'll arrange it."

"No, you won't," Daenerys countered. "Missandei and Qhono will take the false queen to the gardens and order the Queensguard to watch her." She looked at her advisor. "If any of the Queensguard give you trouble, execute them."

"You can't," Jaime protested. "Those men have been loyal guards for years."

"To Baratheons and Lannisters," Daenerys snapped. "To families who've tried to kill me from even before I was born. If I don't hold their loyalty, the Queensguard is of no use to me."

Jaime's face flushed again but he clamped his mouth shut. He exchanged glances with Tyrion then slowly sat down. Missandei rose from the table and crossed to the exit. She had a quick conversation with Qhono, who nodded and glared at Cersei.

"Go with them," Tyrion urged his sister quietly. "The gardens are clean and fresh. Go, for your child's sake."

Cersei hissed in a deep breath and put her hand protectively over her abdomen. She silently stalked out of the room, head held high, sweeping ahead of Missandei and Qhono. Missandei nodded back at everyone while Qhono was already following Cersei, his hand on the blade attached to his belt.

"Lord Tyrion, Ser Jaime, would you like to be excused?" Jon asked quietly.

Tyrion and Jaime exchanged glances then both shook their heads at Jon. The King in the North nodded. The dragons relaxed and returned to their comfortable seats on the sofa and the tables, except Allwyn, who flew into Brienne's lap. Bronn, seated next to Brienne, stiffened when the grey and blue dragon turned its focused black eyes towards the knight. Brienne wrapped her arm around Allwyn, tucking the dragon close to her breasts.

"Queen Daenerys and I will review the prisoners," Jon decided. "What's next?"

"The _Iron Fleet_," Tyrion read from his notes. "We need to ensure they're ready to sail."

"We also need to make sure no more traitors are among us," Theon added. "My men and I will do a ship by ship inspection."

"I can assist you," Ser Davos offered. "I'll focus on the ships while you focus on the men."

"Theon, how is Yara?' Daenerys asked. "Is she ready to have visitors?"

Theon smiled and nodded. "She's much better, your Grace, thank you. She hopes to join our meetings in a day or two."

Daenerys smiled back at him. "Good. King Jon and I will visit her this afternoon."

She glanced down the table to Jon. Jon smiled and nodded in silent agreement. Brienne looked from one ruler to the other, observing how in synch they were. Perhaps it was because she knew of Daenerys's intentions towards Jon, or perhaps the shared burden of ruling increased their compatibility, but they already functioned at a couple. They rarely spoke to each other but their actions and decisions aligned without words.

"Continue, Lord Tyrion," Jon urged. "Next?"

"Wildfire," Tyrion read. "We need to determine how much we have, where it is and decide what to do with it."

"Wildfire is a powerful but uncontrollable weapon. Using it will destroy everything in its path," Davos said. "I saw what wildfire did in the Battle of Blackwater Bay. You've all seen what's left of the Sept of Baelor. Do we really want to use a weapon that'll destroy the very lands we're trying to save?"

"Perhaps there's a way to channel it, control it," Jorah suggested. "Who knows how it's made?"

"Qyburn," Jaime answered. "He can tell us if there's any way to modify or control it."

"Cersei's Hand?" Daenerys huffed. "I trust him as much as I trust Cersei."

"Maybe once we know how it's made, someone else can find a way to manage it," Brienne suggested. "We have to stabilize it if we want to take it north."

"Regardless, we must move it out of the city. We have dragons around here. Any large fire might be enough to ignite the wildfire and burn us all to the ground," Tyrion reminded them, nodding to Allwyn in Brienne's lap.

Allwyn squawked and took flight, hovering over the table for a moment before rejoining the other dragons at the far side of the room. Everyone watched with awe as the dragon skillfully landed beside Gallan.

"That might be enough incentive for Qyburn to cooperate with us," Jon suggested, still watching the dragons. He dragged his gaze away. "Lord Varys, remind Qyburn the wildfire is a threat to everyone living in this city, including those in the Red Keep."

Varys nodded. "Consider it done, your Grace."

"Ser Bronn, what do you need to catalogue the wildfire?" Tyrion asked.

"What do I need to go down into dark passageways and put myself inches from liquid death again?" Bronn snorted. "I need a good, stiff drink, maybe a dozen."

"How about I give you Podrick for now?" Tyrion offered. "Not as a drinking partner but to note where and how much stock we have."

"It might be good for Podrick to sketch out a map with locations, too," Brienne suggested. "Not everyone can read but everyone can follow pictures. Pod is an excellent artist. His sketches of the cave drawing from Dragonstone are almost perfect replicas."

"Thank you, my Lady, Ser," Podrick murmured, his face blushing bright red.

"Some squires learn fighting or swordplay from their masters. This one learned to blush." Bronn snorted. "Were you blushing at Chataya's, too? Can't image it, you being so good and all. Didn't charge you a single copper."

Podrick blushed even deeper red and ducked his head. Brienne also flushed as everyone looked from her squire to her.

"Ser Bronn." Jon spoke through gritted teeth, directing attention back to himself. "I don't know what Chataya's is and I don't care. Forget that story. If you bring it up again, I'll punch you in the jaw. That'll shut you up for weeks. Understood?"

Bronn slumped in his seat, opening his mouth to speak. The icy glare from the King in the North made him close his mouth with an audible click of teeth.

"Understood?" Jon repeated.

"Fine," Bronn muttered. "Pod and I will risk our lives, sober mind you, and draw pretty pictures for your entertainment."

Jon's jaw hardened and his hand curled into a fist. Bronn quickly dropped his facetious attitude, straightened and nodded. Jon nodded back and uncurled his fist. He shifted his gaze to Tyrion sitting beside Bronn.

"What's next, Lord Tyrion?" Jon prompted.

"The Valyrian steel swords in the Iron Throne," Tyrion responded. "We have to remove them, repair them if they have damaged pommels and decide on a plan to share them among the armies fighting the Night King."

"Brienne and the dragons will remove the swords," Jon said. "The dragons will melt the throne and Brienne will collect the weapons."

"Ser Jorah, will you assist her?" Daenerys asked. "You can evaluate the swords after Lady Brienne removes them."

Jorah nodded in agreement.

"I can help, too," Jaime offered.

"No, you can't," Tyrion corrected gently. "Those dragons won't let you near Lady Brienne, especially with sharp weapons close by."

"You said they can sense intent," Jaime protested. "I have no intention of hurting Brienne."

"But our dear sister does. And you, erm," Tyrion cleared his throat uncomfortably, "smell like Cersei."

Jaime stared at his brother for a few seconds then flushed. He glanced at Brienne before his gaze skittered away.

"Perhaps Ser Jaime can organize guards for the doors," Brienne suggested quietly. "The doors and windows must stay open to release the smoke. We don't want anyone to accidentally walk in while the throne is on fire. The dragons will consider them a threat."

"Good idea," Daenerys agreed. "Ser Jaime, arrange guards for Lady Brienne."

Jaime's mouth flattened into a thin line but he nodded.

"They can't grab flaming swords with their bare hands," Davos noted. "I'll find Gendry. He can bring them heavy aprons and tongs."

"Gendry?" Jon asked.

"Aye, he's a blacksmith I know on the Street of Steel." Davos's eyes flick to Tyrion and Jaime then he looks back at Jon. "He apprenticed under Tobho Mott, one of the few men in Westeros who worked with Valyrian steel."

"Do you think he'd go north with us?" Jon asked. "We need skilled blacksmiths to forge the dragonglass into weapons. His knowledge of Valyrian steel might help."

Again, Davos glanced at the Lannister brothers before addressing his king. "I don't know, your Grace, but I'll ask him when I ask for the aprons and tongs."

"Remind him his queen requires his service," Daenerys says. "His contributions will help us in the battle against the Night King."

"Aye, your Grace," Davos agreed.

"Anything else on your list, Lord Tyrion?" Jon asked.

"No, that's all I noted." Tyrion shook his head. "I'll check for new scrolls and continue to send ravens to inform the remaining lords of their new queen."

The door opened and Missandei entered.

"The false queen is in the far garden, overlook the bay, your Grace," Missandei reported. "The Queensguard and several of your guards watch over her. Drogon and Rhaegal are flying over the bay, close enough to assist, if needed."

"And Gregor?" Daenerys asked.

"He's still in Cersei's rooms," Missandei assured. "The chamber doors are open. The guards can see him standing at the window, watching over the false queen."

Missandei came back to take her place beside Daenerys. The queen smiled fondly at her advisor before turning back to Tyrion.

"What about the people of King's Landing?" Daenerys asked. "What should we introduce me to my new people? How do you normally crown a new queen?"

"The High Septon pronounces you queen," Tyrion explained. "The ceremony takes place before the nobles and honored guests. The High Septon crowns you before the Iron Throne. But we don't have an Iron Throne anymore."

"There are no lords, ladies or guests here," Jon noted. "They all fled when the dragons took the Red Keep."

"We don't have a High Septon, either," Jaime admitted. "Cersei killed the last one in the Sept of Baelor."

"No septon, no nobles and no throne." Daenerys's voice was flat and even. "Do we at least have Targaryen banners to replace existing ones?"

"Yes, your Grace." Tyrion made a note on his scroll. "I'll see it's done immediately."

"What about a leaving ceremony?" Missandei suggested. "The people came to see you when you arrived at the Red Keep. They'll come to see you off, too. They'll know their new queen doesn't just sit in a castle while others fight for her."

"It will certainly lift the people's spirits to see their new queen go into battle for them," Tyrion agreed. "We can have a formal ceremony, with a newly chosen High Septon and a new throne, when you return from the war. Nobles from all around Westeros will come to see the queen who saved them from the Night King."

Brienne exchanged tense glances with Podrick. Griff and the _Golden Company_ would be here in eight days' time. Daenerys and her advisors were preparing for a crowning ceremony that would never occur. Griff was the rightful King of the Seven Kingdoms. Daenerys was focused on the war against the Night King, expecting the kingdom would be waiting for her return. Would she still focus on their battle against the Army of the Dead once her nephew came to take her crown?

"Very well," Daenerys agreed reluctantly. "But we're not all going. You and Lady Brienne will stay behind to parlay with Dorne. Who should we leave with you?"

"I'll stay," Sandor offered. "I know my way around King's Landing. I blend with the smallfolk and can learn what they're saying. They might be some whispers about Dorne or spies gathering information."

"Are we going to pick up whispers in the taverns?" Bronn asked eagerly. "I'll stay, too."

"I'll stay as well," Jaime said quietly. He glanced at the dragons, now stretched out on the sofa and tables around the room, quiet but watchful. "I may not be much of a spy but, apparently, I have a role to fulfill."

"A role to fulfill," Daenerys repeated. She looked at Brienne. "Blood, gold, love."

Brienne blushed crimson, her guilt nearly suffocating her. "Your Grace, I don't believe Ser Jaime will knowingly betray you."

"What?" Jaime demanded. "What are you talking about?"

Daenerys gave Jaime a hard look. "When my dragons were stolen from me and taken to the House of the Undying, I saw three illusions and heard a voice whisper to me. It said 'Three treasons will you know, once for blood and once for gold and once for love'."

"And you think I'll be one of them?" Jaime asked. "Which one?"

"Khaleesi has faced several betrayals of blood and," Jorah swallowed hard, "one for gold."

"All that remains is a betrayal for love." Daenerys lifted her chin. "Will you betray me, Ser Jaime? Will your love lead you to act against me?"

"I don't love you." Jaime stared at her. "I'm not here because of you. I'm here for Brienne."

"No, you don't love me," Daenerys agreed. "You love another. Will you betray me for that love?"

Jaime's glance flickered to Brienne then focused back on Daenerys. The queen waited with raised chin and squared shoulders, as if expecting Jaime to stab her through the heart that instant.

Jon's hands curled into fists while Jorah and Theon's hands drifted to their swords. Tyrion and Bronn straightened in their seats while Varys pressed back in his. Sandor was silent and still. The dragons raised their heads, alerted by the escalating tension in the room.

"Well?" the queen demanded.

Brienne held her breath. Love hadn't retreated Jaime well. He'd destroyed himself time and again for his family's love, trying to please his father, protect his brother and satisfy his sister. He'd killed enemies, allies and even his own kin for them. Tywin Lannister had tried to create a dynasty with his daughter as queen, his grandsons as kings, his granddaughter a princess and his son as lord of the richest castle in Westeros. Now, his daughter was deposed and despised, his grandchildren murdered, Casterly Rock bankrupted and his sons cooperated with the children of the men his family had killed. Love had lifted Jaime and love had crushed Jaime.

Jaime looked at Tyrion then at the dragons raising themselves from their prone positions. His gaze went to Brienne before he finally looked back at Daenerys.

"I don't know," Jaime admitted. "But I do know, I'll do anything for those I love."


	23. Sword Keeper

**THE KEEPER**

Chapter 23 – Sword Keeper

"My Lady, direct the dragons further to your left and up a bit!" Gendry called. "I think those are the last of the Valyrian steel weapons."

Brienne looked uneasily at the blacksmith as she wiped sweat off her brow with the sleeve of her shirt. Melting the throne was hot, sweaty work. The throne room sweltered from the dragonfire and was filled with thick, black smoke even though the doors and windows were open. She wore blacksmith's gloves and an apron over the clothes she'd arrived in yesterday. She was grateful Gendry had warned her to change out of Daenerys's lovely gifted gown before she began.

In fact, all of Gendry's advice and direction had been useful. He'd been open-mouthed and wide-eyed when he'd first seen the dragons but still stayed to assist them retrieve the Valyrian steel swords. Brienne's original plan had been to allow the dragons to fire at will and pick up swords as they fell. Gendry had pointed out how that would further damage the pommels and designs, plus make it harder to clean up the melted metal flowing around the base.

He crouched near the center of the room, out of the dragons' fire range but close enough to call to her. Even so, he was careful to stay with Jorah as they watched her direct the dragons. The men were sitting on the floor as the soot and smoke required them to stay low to avoid the fumes. Once the few remaining swords fell and cooled, she carried them over to the men. The swords were in neat piles, sorted by type, size and damage. The men checked each new weapon with Jorah testing their balance and Gendry offering suggestions on required repairs.

It wasn't Gendry's advice or instruction that bothered Brienne, it was his _face_. He was tall and muscular, with blue eyes and thick dark hair cropped close to his head. Brienne had seen King Robert several times and knew a Baratheon when she saw one. Gendry was one of Robert's bastards. Davos had sent Gendry. Did the Onion Knight know about the smith's heritage?

"My Lady, I need to check the section the dragons just finished," Gendry said. "I think we have all the Valyrian steel."

Brienne nodded wearily. Her muscles ached from bending and lifting the piles of swords. The dragons, on the other hand, were energized and delighted with their game. Burning down the throne was a pleasure for them. It allowed them to finish off the hateful thing that had dared to scratch Catren and Brienne, to harm their family.

Brienne led the dragons down to the end of the hall towards the main entrance. Gendry waited for them to pass before carefully creeping back to the throne. The dragons looked at him but weren't threatened by the handsome Baratheon bastard.

Through the open doorways, she could see the Lannister guards outside each door, holding back the curious onlookers who gawked at the dragons. Their audience was too far away to hear them but they could see clearly. Having them around made Brienne nervous but, short of shutting down the Red Keep, there was no way to keep people away. The guards were doing their jobs, keeping people back and away from the doors. They seemed to have gained confidence now that they knew the dragons wouldn't attack anyone actively protecting Brienne.

She checked at each door as she passed it but she didn't see Jaime. She wasn't concerned. She knew he had to divide his time between overseeing the guards with her and the ones watching over Cersei. He'd checked on her frequently, careful to stay out of the dragons' fire range. The five hadn't yet softened their stance against him, hissing and puffing when he appeared. Brienne was confident they would, in time, come around to see Jaime as she did.

The servants had left pails of water and fresh fish to reward the dragons. The five squawked with delight and happily prepared and ate their meals. Their awestruck admirers, safely far from the doors, cried out and applauded their antics. Brienne blushed deeply, even knowing the people weren't staring at her. She was already dull but paled into insignificance compared to the majesty of the dragons. Still, she also had to smile as she admired the five soaring and preening.

"Are you well, Lady Brienne?" Jorah came to her, holding out a goblet.

He had a matching goblet in his other hand. Brienne smiled gratefully and nodded. They shared a companionable silence as they both enjoyed the cool, fruity wine.

"What did Gendry say about the swords?" she asked, nodding to the smith who was cautiously inspecting the smoldering remains of the Iron Throne.

"All the weapons you've removed will need repair," Jorah reported. "The blades are as sharp as ever but they cannot be used until the pommels are replaced. They'll cut the holder's hand if we don't."

Brienne nodded. "It's to be expected. I don't think Aegon the First or Balerion the Black Dread were careful with the swords of their enemies."

"Still, they preserved them for us to use." Jorah frowned. "I wonder what Aegon thoughts were when he did this to humiliate his vanquished rivals. Did he have any idea his actions would save the weapons and arm the future for the war against the Night King?"

Brienne thought about it. She couldn't understand humiliating her rivals. Even when in Renly's kingsguard, she'd kept her head high, never acknowledging the hurtful slurs or the aggressive dislike of the other guards. She'd enjoyed shoving them into the dirt in noble contests but never played dirty or cheated to win. Aegon the First had used his dragon to take advantage of his enemies then, after defeating them, took away their dignity.

Griff would never act as his ancestor did, even though he had five such advantages. He didn't want to conquer the people. He wanted to help them. His kills had always been quick and clean, done to protect her, the dragons or himself. He trained the dragons to defend, not to attack. She couldn't imagine him humiliating people or taking pleasure in their suffering.

"No, I think Aegon the First did it to feed his ego," Brienne decided. "The Night King had been a myth for thousands of years even during Aegon's time. He didn't believe in the threat. Aegon was a conqueror with a powerful dragon. I think he felt invincible."

"Do you?' Jorah gave her a sideways glance.

Brienne frowned. "Do I think he was invincible?"

"No, do you feel invincible because of your dragons," the knight clarified.

"No, I feel vulnerable," she admitted, watching the dragons tussle with each other. "I worry for them constantly. They're still so young and easily hurt, even without the threat of the Night King and scorpion bolts."

"Khaleesi felt invincible before she lost Viserion," Jorah confided. He watched the dragons play, his eyes dark and shadowed. "But now she worries, like you. These terrible times threaten her. I worried for her when we came back from Eastwatch. I worried and I feared."

Worry was an emotion Brienne could understand. It was natural to worry about loved ones when they were enduring great trauma, such as the loss of a child. Fear didn't make sense. Why would Jorah, one of Daenerys's closest friends and advisors, her _family_, be afraid of her?

"Feared?" Brienne repeated. "You feared Queen Daenerys?"

"No." Jorah took a deep drink of his wine. "I feared _for_ her. She is a Targaryen."

She heard Griff's voice in her head. _"They say every time a Targaryen is born; the Gods toss a coin and the world holds its breath."_

Brienne shook her head. "No, I don't see madness in her, if that's what you mean."

"There's a fine line between grief and madness," Jorah explained, his gravelly voice pitched low. "She's much closer to that line than many others. But you have steadied her, pulled her further away from that line then she's been in all the time I've known her."

Color, from embarrassment and guilt, flushed Brienne's face. "It's not me, it's the dragons. They remind her life continues."

"But a life alone, with no one to trust, to care about you, is no life," Jorah pointed out.

"The queen has a family,' Brienne insisted. "She's made a family of the people she trusts; you, Missandei, Qhono, the man who's mention makes Missandei blush, Grey uh…"

"Grey Worm," Jorah supplied. "The slave masters in Astapor named the Unsullied after vermin to emphasize their low status."

Brienne recoiled in horror. "And Queen Daenerys stills calls him that demeaning name?"

"No, it was his choice," Jorah explained. "Khaleesi _asked_ the Unsullied to choose names that gave them pride. Grey Worm said his slave name gave him pride because it was the name he had when he _chose_ to follow Daenerys Stormborn."

Brienne lowered her eyes, unable to meet the devoted knight's gaze. Guilt tightened her throat. "Your queen is good woman."

"With many enemies and traitors plotting to bring her down." Jorah leaned closer to meet her gaze. "She needs those who love her to stand by her side, guard her back and light her way. You, Lady Brienne, have illuminated her path. I thank you for it."

Brienne bit her lower lip, tears stinging her eyes. She wasn't illuminating Daenerys's path. She was merely holding ground until her king came to lead Westeros into its glorious future. She was silently aiding in Daenerys's downfall.

"I still follow my king," she mumbled.

Jorah smiled reassuringly. "Your honor does you credit, Lady Brienne. Khaleesi admires your loyalty to your king. Only good leaders inspire great knights."

Brienne shook her head. "I'm not a knight."

"You should be," Jorah said. "You deserve it more than any of the cowards who bear the title around here."

"My Lady," Gendry called.

The blacksmith stood by the pile of cooled swords and waved to them. Brienne, Jorah and the dragons were closer to the main doors, with Gendry out of the dragons' fire range. The thick cloud of black smoke covering the remains of the throne began to rise as the fires burned out.

"I believe that was the last of the swords," Gendry called out. "Now we need to transport them to my shop so I can start fixing the pommels."

Jorah began to walk back to him. "We must wait for Khaleesi and King Jon to inspect them. They may have special instructions for their care."

Gendry nodded. "What about the throne? Do you plan to dismantle it?"

The former Iron Throne was now an eight-foot-high lump. The molten steel had flowed down the steps and onto the dais, coating it and the floor around it, in cooling metal.

"Again, that's for Khaleesi to decide," Jorah explained.

"And I am here," Daenerys announced from over Brienne's shoulder.

Brienne turned at the sound of the queen's voice. She, Jon, Podrick, Tyrion, Bronn, Missandei, Davos and their guards entered the main doors. The people outside the doors bent to their new queen but Daenerys didn't see it. She frowned at she looked over Brienne. Brienne ducked her head, knowing she looked awful with her lanky hair, red face and sweaty appearance.

"Lady Brienne, are you alright?" the queen demanded. "You look exhausted."

Normally, such a remark would make her blush and cringe at her homely appearance. The deep concern in Daenerys's eyes kept the embarrassment at bay. The queen was genuinely concerned for her.

"I'm fine, your Grace," Brienne assured her.

"Do you need a cool drink or a wet cloth?" Daenerys questioned. "Why has no one attended you?"

"They have, your Grace." Brienne gestured to the table that held wine, her glass and a bowl of fresh fruit.

Daenerys frowned, clearly dissatisfied by the care her kin had been given. She looked around, eyes flashing dangerously. Jon spoke, drawing the irate queen's attention.

"Brienne, have you finished removing the Valyrian steel weapons from the Iron Throne?" he asked.

"Yes, we have," Brienne smiled back at the dragons still tussling and playing the background. "I'm worn out but they're having a great time."

Jon's smile crinkled the corners of his eyes. "Perhaps you should take them to Blackwater Bay to fly with Drogon and Rhaegal. Ships are filling up the waterway to watch the dragons fly."

"Is it safe?" Brienne asked anxiously. "What if the ships have scorpions mounted on them or another weapon we don't yet know about?"

"The dragons arrived only yesterday," Davos pointed out. "No one has had time to build a ballista or any other weapons."

"Plus, Drogon is ready for it now," Daenerys pointed out. "He'll be looking for threats."

"We should take them out, my Lady, Ser," Podrick urged. "It's a cloudy day but it'll be nice for us to have fresh air after being inside all afternoon."

"Did you map out all the locations of wildfire?" Brienne asked, pitching her voice low, aware of their audience, even if they couldn't hear their conversation.

Podrick shook his head and glanced around at their watchers. "Not all of them. It appears Cersei was stockpiling it. There's far more of it than needed to blow this whole city to the seven hells."

"Aye," Bronn agreed. "I think she was planning to light up more than just King's Landing. The biggest deposits we saw were under the Iron Gate and the River Gate."

"The Iron Gate would mean waterways while the River Gate means the King's Road leading to the southlands," Tyrion said. "She could send them anywhere from those directions."

"It'll do no good to ask her," Daenerys noted. "Cersei won't tell us what her plans were for it."

"But Qyburn might," Jon reminded them. "We'll see how successful Lord Varys is at getting Cersei's Hand to talk to us."

The all murmured agreement. Podrick went to the dragons and braced himself as Gallan landed on his shoulders. The squire grunted but held his ground as he absorbed the dragon's weight. The observers watching from the halls gasped in amazement. Jon frowned at their audience before joining Daenerys in stroking and praising the dragons.

"That might be right good exercise," Bronn noted. "The lad's got much better balance and leg strength than I remember. Course you have to risk being dragon dinner to get it. I'll keep to my sword practice."

"The dragons will never hurt Podrick," Brienne insisted indignantly. "And they don't eat people. They eat fish."

"Thank the Gods for that," Bronn said fervently. "I know this great tavern that has the prettiest barmaids and the best fish pies in King's Landing."

"Lady Brienne's dragons are far too young to go into taverns with you," Tyrion said drily. "They're still children."

"I gotta start training them when they're young," Bronn insisted, confident now that the dragons were relaxed and away from him. "A foster father's gotta teach his little ones right."

Brienne was about to reply when Jorah and Gendry came to join them. The dragons watched the smith with interest but didn't form a defensive line. Instead it was Davos who stiffen as he stared at the blacksmith. Clearly, Davos knew Gendry was Robert's bastard. Everyone turned to look at the newcomers.

"Ser Jorah, are the swords in good condition?" Daenerys asked, leaving the dragons to go to her knight.

"Aye, Khaleesi, the Valyrian steel is in excellent condition," Jorah replied. "They just need to be polished to remove the centuries of dirt and soot."

"Could you inspect them clearly? It's so dark in here from the smoke." Jon nodded and looked at the pile of swords in the middle of the throne room. "How do we get the smoke out of here?"

"We were able to inspect the swords from the light of dragonfire and the burning of the throne," Jorah explained.

"The smoke is rising," Brienne noted. "Before, we couldn't see the top of the melted throne. It should disperse quickly now that we're no longer burning the throne."

Jon nodded and looked inquiringly at Gendry.

"Begging your pardon, your Graces," Davos began but was interrupted by the blacksmith.

"My name's Gendry, your Graces," he announced himself. "I'm Robert Baratheon's son, bastard son."

Tyrion made an odd noise, between a gasp and a grunt. Daenerys's eyebrows lifted while Jon's eyes widened. He looked to Davos. Davos glared at Gendry.

"He was meant to keep that to himself," Davos muttered.

Gendry shrugged and looked at the King in the North. "Our fathers trusted each other. Why shouldn't we?"

Jon looked at Davos then at Daenerys. Her mouth was in a tight, suspicious line. She looked at Tyrion who stared at Gendry with dark, shadowed eyes. Jon turned back to Gendry.

"I saw you father once at Winterfell," the king said.

Gendry nodded, smiling. "I met yours, in my shop."

The two men sized each other up. Everyone else watched silently, waiting for the bastard King in the North to respond to the bastard son of his father's best friend. Jon studied the younger man then smiled.

Jon nodded. "You're a lot leaner."

"You're a lot shorter," Gendry shot back.

The smile faded from the King in the North's face. Gendry's smile died, too. Davos stiffened as everyone else watched quietly. Then Jon's face relaxed.

"I grew up on stories about them," he said.

Gendry nodded. "All I ever knew was that they fought together and won. Ser Davos told me where you're going and the reason why. Let me come with you."

"Don't be a fool," Davos snapped at him. "You're not a soldier."

"But I am a fighter," Gendry insisted. He squared his shoulders, straightening to his full height. "And you won't be needing a smith with swords like these."

Davos looked at Jon. Jon looked at Daenerys. She shrugged. Everyone else remained silent as they waited for the King in the North to make his decision.

"Do you know how to use one?" Jon finally asked.

Gendry shook his head.

"Well, that's a problem." Jon sighed.

"I prefer a hammer." Gendry said. "I know how to use it."

He looked to Davos to provide confirmation. Everyone looked at Davos, even the audience in the hall, who couldn't hear them but sensed something important had occurred.

The Onion Knight shrugged. "He can handle himself."

Jon nodded then smiled at Gendry. "We can use the help."

Davos still glared at Gendry. "As my father used to say, it's better to be a coward for a minute than dead for the rest of your life."

"I owe you my life, twice over." Gendry's voice shook with his conviction. "If what you say is true, about what's up there, I can't wait out this war."

"Yes, nobody mind me," Davos muttered. "All I've ever done is live to a ripe old age."

"We do mind you, Ser Davos," Daenerys assured gently. "But King Jon is right. We need all the help we can get." She eyed Gendry carefully. "Even if it is from Robert Baratheon's seed."

"I didn't know he was father until after he died, your Grace," Gendry insisted.

"Plus, Gendry knows how to work with Valyrian steel," Brienne added. "We may need his skills at Winterfell."

"Aye," Gendry nodded vigorously. "These are fine swords, sharp as can be. But they need new pommels. There's also some short swords and daggers in the pile, too. They need special grips."

Rapid footsteps from outside the hall interrupted him. Everyone turned to see Cersei sweep into the room, face flushed red. Jaime, several bloodriders and the Queensguard followed after the irritated former queen. Immediately, Brienne and Podrick caught the dragons, holding them tightly. Jon and Daenerys shifted so the dragons were behind their backs.

"I've been left outside all day with barely any food or water," Cersei snapped.

Daenerys glanced back at the dragons. Seeing they were alert but calm, she moved forward to face the former queen.

"You're a prisoner, not a guest," the new Queen of Westeros reminded her. "Perhaps staying in the cells will clarify that point for you."

Cersei's mouth pressed into a hard line. She sniffed then saw Gendry. "Robert," she whispered.

Gendry's expression hardened. "No, Gendry, Robert's bastard. The only one you didn't kill."

Jaime also looked at Gendry but said nothing, his eyes widening as he stared at Robert's bastard son. Tyrion moved to stand beside his brother, as if lending support.

"Odd how life works out." Gendry eyed the Lannisters.

Jaime frowned at the young man. "What do you mean?"

Gendry shrugged. "Joffery ordered the murder of all King Robert's bastards to hide the fact he was a Lannister bastard. Now, all the Lannister bastards are gone and I'm still here. Odd, huh?"

Cersei hissed and lunged for him but Jaime caught her and held her back. The dragons screeched, reacting to Cersei's spiked emotions. Cersei's rage was directed at Gendry so the dragons didn't try to pull away from Brienne and Podrick. Still, their hisses made their displeasure known. Cersei froze in Jaime's hold, turning her head to stare at the dragons with raw fear in her eyes.

"Joffery order the murder of Robert's children?" Jaime asked her, his eyes stark.

"We did it to protect _our_ children." Cersei's eyes narrowed. "Don't forget, you've done the same yourself."

Jaime's face drained of color and his hand dropped from Cersei's shoulder. His closed his eyes as a shudder shook his frame. Everyone stared between the twins in shocked horror, except Tyrion, who hung his head. The dragons hissed again and puffed in aggression. Gendry held himself tall and strong, calmly facing the Lannister siblings. Tyrion snorted softly, his mouth twisting in pain.

"Odd, indeed," the youngest Lannister agreed, looking up at Gendry. "Father thought he'd started a dynasty that would last a thousand years. But we made mistake after mistake and the most innocent amongst us were forced to pay for them. Now, all that's left of our once great house is the three of us. What a sorry lot we are."

"There's still one yet to come," Cersei reminded him through clenched teeth as she looked from the dragons to Gendry. "A _real_ Lannister is yet to be born."

"One without a house to live in, wealth to sustain him, or loyal bannermen to guard his back," Tyrion snapped. "You bankrupted Casterly Rock and killed off or turned off all the Westerlands houses who would've come to his aid."

Cersei glared at her youngest brother but said nothing. Davos looked from Tryion to Gendry. The knight's expression softened. He stepped forward and put his hand on Gendry's shoulder.

"Think about –" Davos began but stopped short with a gasp, his eyes widening. "Dear Gods, she was right. The red witch was right."

Everyone stared at Davos with varying degrees of confusion and concern, watching his face flush blood red. Even the dragons and Cersei, who had regained control of herself, stared at him. The knight released Gendry's shoulder and pointed to the melted mass of the throne, his hand shaking visibly.

"The stars," he gasped, "They're bleeding."

Everyone turned to look. The dark black smoke has almost disappeared, leaving only a thin layer of grey wisps behind. They stared at the enormous seven-pointed star stained-glass window mounted above the throne and the smaller stained-glass stars around the room. The dragonfire had melted the colored glass, leaving long, blood-red streaks down the walls, making it appear as if the stars were bleeding.

Tyrion stepped forward, his eyes so wide they dominated his face. "There will come a day after a long summer when the stars bleed and the cold breath of darkness falls heavy on the world."

Davos turned to stare at Brienne. "In this dread hour a warrior shall draw from the fire a burning sword."

Suddenly, the clouds outside parted. The sun blazed brightly through the glass, burning through the remaining haze and casting a blood-red halo over the swords piled in the center of the room. Everyone gasped. Even the guards and observers peeking in from the doorways were quiet and still.

Ser Jorah, still wearing the heavy leather blacksmith's glove, picked up a sword and held it high in the bright red glow. "And that sword shall be _Lightbringer_, the Red Sword of Heroes, and he who clasps it shall be Azor Ahai come again, and the darkness shall flee before him."

"They're all red swords in the light of the Seven," Gendry noted, his voice hushed and reverent.

"Because they're all lightbringers, the weapons that will help us end the Long Night." Jon strode forward to join Jorah beside the pile.

"Perhaps Azor Ahai isn't a person," Brienne suggested. "Many old stories are simplified to make them easy to remember. Maybe there never was a man who tempered his sword in water, a lion and the heart of his beloved."

"Or maybe it's true. We don't know what dark magic it took to create these swords in the first place," Davos pointed out.

Daenerys gasped. "The Unsullied were forced to kill infants to prove their worth. Perhaps killing their loved ones was a necessary last step to create swords that never dull."

"Azor Ahai," Missandei spoke the name slowly, stretching out the syllables. "As or a high. As are high. High. Elevated. Chosen." Her eyes widened. "The Gods' chosen warriors."

Jon looked directly at Brienne. "There will come a day after a long summer when the stars bleed and the cold breath of darkness falls heavy on the world. In this dread hour a warrior shall draw from the fire a burning sword. And that sword shall be_ a_ lightbringer, the Red Sword of Heroes, and he who clasps it shall be _the chosen_ come again, and the darkness shall flee before him."

Podrick looked from Jon to Brienne then back again. "My Lady is Azor Ahai?"

"We're all Azor Ahai,' Jon corrected. "We've all chosen to fight the darkness, the Long Night."

Daenerys went over to the pile of swords. She studied the swords, as if mesmerized. She reached out but Jorah caught her hand.

"Khaleesi, they'll cut you," he cautioned. "The pommels are damaged."

"Here, your Grace," Gendry hurriedly stripped off his glove.

Daenerys held her hand out to allow the smith to slide the glove over her fingers. Then she looked back at the pile of swords to the one that had drawn her attention. She pulled out a short, slim blade with a torn silver and white pommel. Even dirty as it was, it glowed in the red light.

"It looks like the sword for a young boy," Jorah noted.

"Or for a small woman," Daenerys corrected. She held up the blade in the circle of red light cast in the seven-pointed star. "This shall be my sword."

"Aye," Jorah agreed. "And with it you become a true warrior, Khaleesi."

"They say all the best swords have names, your Grace," Brienne said, her voice carrying in the long, silent hall.

Jaime turned to look at her, his eyes widening as her words. Brienne gave him a small, sad smile. She remembered him saying the same to her when he presented her with _Oathkeeper._

Daenerys held the sword aloft, her deep blue eyes sparkling. "_Dragon's Eye_," she announced.

There was a general murmur of agreement as everyone admired the queen's new Valyrian steel sword.

"Your first sword, Khaleesi," Jorah said, "And a fine one at that."

The queen looked long and hard at her new sword. "I know exactly how I'll initiate it."

Daenerys turned and strode down to the melted remains of the Iron Throne, _Dragon's Eye_ held carefully away from her body. Missandei, Tyrion and Jorah hurried after her, her bloodriders only steps behind them. Brienne looked to Jon who, along with Davos, Bronn, Gendry and the Lannister twins remained with her, Podrick and the dragons.

The Queen of Westeros stopped in front of the remains of the Iron Throne. She had a quick, whispered conversation with Jorah. He helped her mount the now cool metal dais and stood at her shoulder on the step below. Missandei stopped at her left side while Tyrion stood on the right side at the bottom of the steps while the bloodriders spread out behind them.

"Lady Brienne, come to me," Daenerys called out in her most regal tone.

Brienne exchanged worried glances with Podrick before turning to Jon. Jon looked at Daenerys before giving Brienne a reassuring smile. The dragons rose along with her, taking to the air over her head. Gasps of awe drifted in from the doorways along the throne room. Brienne walked down the hall, the dragons above her and Podrick behind her.

"Yes, your Grace?" She looked up at the queen, now slightly taller than her from her elevated position.

The dragons landed on the remains of the Iron Throne, giving them the highest vantage point in the room. Jon, Davos, Bronn, Gendry, and Jaime came to stand beside Tyrion. Brienne looked back at Podrick. Her squire's eyes were wide as he went to stand beside Missandei, where he was joined by the Queensguard. Brienne looked over to Jon. He nodded to her encouragingly.

"Lady Brienne, many men have spoken vows they break as soon as they utter them, but not you." The queen's deep blue eyes were warm and soft but her voice was loud enough to be heard throughout the silent hall. "You are the truest and most noble knight I've ever met. I promise you, before the Long Night ends, all of Westeros will know Brienne of Tarth is the very essence of honor, bravery and chivalry."

Heat rushed through Brienne's body, guilt bringing a flush to her cheeks. She could barely even look at the queen. "I, I…your Grace, I don't know what to say."

"I do," the queen replied. "Kneel before me."

Brienne looked up at Daenerys. The queen smiled at her reassuringly. Hesitantly, Brienne knelt, her knee touching the first step of the platform. Jorah spoke quietly into his Khaleesi's ear. She nodded then gently laid _Dragon's Eye_ on Brienne's right shoulder_._

"In the name of the Warrior, I charge you to be brave," the queen spoke in ringing tones.

Brienne gasped. Her body swayed as the blood rushing through her veins heated her body. She blinked rapidly, unsure if she was dreaming or if the Queen of Westeros was truly saying the words she heard. The hum of excited voices rose from the watchers outside the hall.

_Dragon's Eye_ was laid lightly on her left shoulder. "In the name of the Father, I charge you to be just."

Brienne pressed her lips together but couldn't hold in the sob that escaped her.

Daenerys laid _Dragon's Eye_ against Brienne's right shoulder again. "In the name of the Mother, I charge you to defend the innocent."

Brienne blinked desperately but the tears still leaked out of her eyes. She clenched her teeth but couldn't stop her chin from quivering.

"Arise, Lady Brienne, a knight of the Seven Kingdoms," Daenerys commanded.

"Ser Brienne," Jon corrected. "Knights are called 'ser', not any previous title."

"No," the queen denied.

Daenerys left the sword on Brienne's shoulder, discouraging her from rising. Brienne looked between the monarchs anxiously. Her greatest secret desire was about to come true. Would the monarchs take it from her only seconds before it was truly hers? Everyone was quiet and still as they waited for the queen to continue.

"I've already promised I 'll never allow anyone to address Brienne anything less than a Lady." Daenerys looked around before her gaze landed on Podrick. Then she smiled. "Arise, Lady _Ser_ Brienne, a knight of the Seven Kingdoms."

The queen removed her sword. Hesitantly, Brienne stood. Applause broke out in the room. She looked over to Podrick, who grinned from ear to ear, his eyes shiny with unshed tears, as he clapped enthusiastically. Then she looked at Jon, whose uncharacteristically broad smile made him look younger and unburdened. Jaime's eyes also glittered with moisture as he patted his left hand to his chest, over his heart, in time with the others. The dragons, picking up on her emotions, screeched and spread their wings, magnificent in their glory.

Brienne turned in a full circle to see everyone, including the bloodriders, the Lannister guards, the Queensguard and even the servants and onlookers in the doorways, clapping. It took her a moment to realize they were clapping for _her_. The tears fell unchecked now as years of suppressed humiliations, ugly cruelties, stoic acceptance and pure heartbreak, a lifetime of festering wounds, were torn open and finally allowed to bleed clean, when Daenerys Stormborn announced to the world what she'd always known in her heart.

"To Lady Ser Brienne of Tarth." Jon's deep voice rose to be heard over the ovation. "Knight of the Seven Kingdoms and _Lightbringer_."


	24. Puppet Keeper

**THE KEEPER**

Chapter 24 – Puppet Keeper

The next morning Brienne appeared in the council room in another new modified gown. Today's dress was a deep golden yellow accented with dark blue scrolls. Matching blue breeches, tan flat boots and a woven tan sword belt complemented the gown. Tyrion, Podrick, Bronn and Davos were already at the table. The dragons flew past her to greet Podrick. Tyrion glanced up at her, then back at his scroll before looking up again, eyes widening.

"My, my, Lady _Ser_ Brienne, knighthood certainly agrees with you. You're positively glowing," he observed.

Brienne blinked and looked down, as if she could see herself. Tyrion wasn't a man who would feed her glib falsehoods about her appearance. It couldn't be because she was well-rested and without a care. She'd barely slept the night before, even with the dragons curled around her. The excitement of her knighthood, conflicting with her guilt at deceiving everyone, had done battle in her mind all night.

As on the previous night, she and the dragons were invited to the queen's chambers. Daenerys and Missandei had been in excellent moods. The queen had cake and wine brought in for them to celebrate. Brienne had tried to participate but she wasn't used to such light-hearted gatherings. Plus, the guilt sat like a lump in her throat, making every bite of creamy lemon cake taste like dirt. Fortunately, Daenerys had blamed her quietness on her normal shyness and only teased her for her silence.

"It's customary to thank people for their complements," Tyrion added gently.

Brienne blushed bright red. She may not have gotten many compliments in her life but she had been given instruction on proper behavior. Her father would be appalled at her lack of social grace. He'd raised her to be a warrior _and_ a lady.

"My apologizes, Lord Hand," she said. "You drew my attention to the lovely dress and I was distracted. Thank you for your kind words."

"That wasn't much of a compliment," Bronn interjected. "Ladies like big, sweeping compliments like comparing her hair to the sun or her eyes to the sea."

"I see. Go on then." Tyrion looked at the knight expectantly.

Bronn stared at him. "That was it, that was my compliment."

"With charm like that, it's a wonder the line of ladies eager to wed you doesn't stretch across the Narrow Sea," Tyrion marveled.

Brienne frowned but Davos chuckled. Podrick hid his face in Catren's neck to hide his grin but couldn't muffle his snort of laughter.

Bronn glared it Tyrion. "Maybe because my name isn't Lannister. Maybe it's because I don't have a big, golden –"

"Bronn!" Tyrion interrupted him in a hiss.

"Hand," Bronn finished blandly. "I was going to say hand."

Jon and Sandor arrived before he could say more. Everyone arose to greet the king. Daenerys, accompanied by Missandei and Jorah, arrived before they had a chance to sit down.

The queen looked around after everyone was seated. "Where's Theon?"

"He was here earlier, your Grace," Tyrion explained. "Queen Yara is better and wanted to see the men who'd saved her life. Theon has taken her to the _Iron Fleet_ so she can inspect her men and the ships."

"I'm meeting him after we finish and can pass along any instructions, your Grace," Davos added.

"Good." Daenerys nodded. "I'm pleased to hear Queen Yara is better."

"I have something else that might please you, your Grace." Davos reached under his seat and brought up _Dragon's Eye_.

The silver and white pommel had been expertly repaired and now had a small silver dragon's head with sapphire eyes mounted to the end of the handle. The freshly polished sword gleamed in the morning sunlight as Davos carefully carried it to the queen.

Daenerys jumped up in her excitement, her glowing smile and shining eyes almost brighter than _Dragon's Eye's_ Valyrian steel. Her modified gown, the deep orange-red of dragonfire, accented with splashes of white, swirled around her. Jorah also rose to instruct her on how to insert the sword in the sheath of her silver and white belt. _Dragon's Eye's_ silver and white hilt blended perfectly with the queen's new sword belt.

"Gendry worked all night to have it ready for you," Davos said.

"Please give him my deepest thanks," Daenerys said. Then her smile dimmed. "What about the other?"

"That's ready, too, your Grace," Davos assured her.

He smiled and nodded at Tyrion. Tyrion got out of his seat and picked up a flat wooden box from the side table. He carried it over to Daenerys and held it out to her. Daenerys's smile deepened as she opened the box and admired the contents. Carefully, she withdrew a Valyrian steel dagger, a companion to _Dragon's Eye_ with the same silver and white pommel and silver dragon with sapphire eyes.

"It's beautiful, isn't it?" Daenerys carefully held it up for everyone to admire.

They all nodded and murmured their agreement. Daenerys held the dagger out for Missandei to inspect.

"It's lovely, your Grace," Missandei leaned forward to study the weapon. "Superb craftsmanship. Gendry is truly a master. I've never seen a dagger this lovely before."

"Good," Daenerys said, "because it's yours."

Missandei's eyes grew wide. "Mine? But, your Grace, I'm not a warrior. These Valyrian steel weapons should be given to those who fight the darkness."

"You've been at my side from the day we met," Daenerys reminded her. "You've faced riots, sellswords, warlords and harpies beside me. I want you to be able to defend yourself. You're no less a warrior than I am. Our weapons are sisters, as are we. You wouldn't deny your sister's gift, would you?"

Daenerys's advisor gasped, opening and closing her mouth but she didn't speak. Missandei, who spoke nineteen languages, was suddenly without words.

"Missandei," Jorah said gently. "If Khaleesi is the dragon's eye, the one who sees our path forward, then you are the dragon's heart, the one who reminds us all of the people we must save."

"_Dragon's Heart_," Daenerys repeated. "What a wonderful name for your Valyrian steel."

Jorah gently assisted Missandei up from her seat and showed her how to slide the dagger into the sheath attached to the silver belt she wore over her deep green and white dress. Missandei blinked rapidly but the shine of tears stayed in her eyes. She held her hands out to her queen. Daenerys returned her watery smile and grasped Missandei's hands.

"How precious," Cersei's hateful voice drawled from the doorway. "Are we interrupting a tender moment?"

Everyone turned to see Cersei and Jaime in the doorway with Gregor standing behind the former queen. Brienne and Podrick immediately jumped up and went to the dragons, who were sunning themselves near the windows. Daenerys released Missandei's hands and the warmth in her blue eyes hardened to ice.

"What are you doing here?" the queen demanded.

"I was summoned," Cersei spat out.

Jon cleared his throat. "I requested her presence. Lord Varys spoke to Qyburn. He'll talk to us but won't do so unless Cersei is present."

Cersei's smile was cold and triumphant. "My Hand is loyal to his queen. He'll tell you nothing."

Cersei went to the table and defiantly seated herself across from Tyrion, head held high. Gregor stood behind her. Jaime nodded to everyone and sat down beside her. The table was between them and the dragons, giving the former queen the illusion of safety. Daenerys glared at Cersei as she, Jorah and Missandei also sat down. Brienne and Podrick exchanged uneasy glances, stroking the dragons to calm their usual tense reaction to Cersei and Gregor.

"The entire realm is in danger," Tyrion reminded his sister. "The information he knows could be the difference between life and death for thousands of people."

"Why should I care about them?" Cersei demanded, her eyes glittered with malice. "They care nothing for me."

Jaime shifted beside her. "Cersei –"

He was interrupted when the doors opened. Varys and Qyburn entered the room. Varys bowed to Jon and Daenerys then went to sit beside Tyrion. Qyburn remained standing. The former Hand to the Queen wore black maester's robes, though he had no chain. His Hand of the Queen pin was at his shoulder. The dragons leaned forward attentively, sniffing the air, but didn't appear disturbed by Cersei's Hand.

"Welcome, Lord Qyburn," Jon greeted him. "Please have a seat."

Qyburn looked at Jon then past him to Brienne and Podrick near the windows, soothing the dragons. They looked back at him with equal interest, with the same calm curiosity. Then Qyburn looked back to the entrance, where Qhono shut the door with a firm snap. Qyburn turned back to face Jon.

"I prefer to stand, your Grace."

"Lord Qyburn, you've seen the creatures that are about to attack our lands," Jon begin. "We believe you have information that may assist us in defending the people."

Qyburn looked at Cersei, as if seeking her permission. She gave him a cold, satisfied smile. He looked back at Jon.

"I have information, your Grace," Qyburn admitted. "But I won't divulge it without assurance."

"If you think to use this summons as a play for leniency for Cersei, you won't get it," Daenerys warned.

"I ask for assurance for myself," Qyburn corrected. "I was acting only for the glory of my true queen. That is my purpose, that is my goal. I take no shame in any of my actions. However, I'm aware some may consider what I've done to be distasteful and perhaps even depraved."

Daenerys looked over at Jon. He stared at Cersei in disbelief. The former queen sat tall and smug, a self-satisfied smile on her face. She looked approvingly at Qyburn. Qyburn's expression didn't alter as he waited. Jon signed and nodded to Daenerys.

"Very well," Daenerys agreed, her voice cold. "As Queen of Westeros, I grant you clemency for your past actions serving your queen. No harm or punishment will come to you for what you share with us today."

"I want to hear it from the White Wolf," Qyburn insisted. "I know the man with Stark blood will be honorable and true to his word."

Daenerys again looked at Jon.

"Very well," the King in the North agreed. "I, Jon Snow, of House Stark, give you my word that you will suffer no harm or punishment for what you share with us today."

"You should be Jon _Stark_," Qyburn growled. "You're a wolf. Be a wolf."

Jon's eyebrows rose. "Be that as it may, I've given you my word. No harm will come to you for the information you share today."

"Very well." Qyburn nodded. "What do you want to know?"

Jon looked to Tyrion. Tyrion nodded and cleared his throat.

"We want to know about the wildfire stored under the city," Tyrion asked. "What do you know about it?"

"Many, many things, my Lord." Qyburn smile was stiff and didn't reach his eyes. "You'll have to be more specific."

"Is there a way to keep it stable?' Jon asked. "We want to transport it north to use in our battles against the Army of the Dead."

"I'd been working on that very project for the past few weeks, your Grace," Qyburn spoke quietly, looking between the Dragon Queen and the Wolf King. "The problem is that wildfire is a liquid that's vulnerable both to flame and to motion. My challenge was to find a way to keep it as potent as it was, even more so if possible, while managing it's instability."

"And you've found a solution?" Jon prompted, a hopeful smile creasing his face and lighting his normally somber eyes. "How?"

"I discovered it through my experimentation, your Grace." This time Qyburn smiled touched his eyes. "No new knowledge comes without study and experimentation."

"Agreed," Jon nodded impatiently. "What did you learn?"

"The solution is tallow," Qyburn announced, his eyes gleaming with triumph.

"Tallow?" Davos repeated. "Like we use to make candles?"

"Yes. May I demonstrate?" Qyburn gestured to a candle holder on the side table.

Jon nodded. Qyburn picked up a candle and threw it on the floor. Everyone jerked and looked at the dragons. They were alert and calm, ignoring the candle, focused on Gregor, the only true threat in the room. When it became clear the dragons weren't disturbed, the humans looked to the remains of the fallen candle. It had broken into pieces. Many small scraps scattered but the large chunks were still connected by the wick. Everyone looked down at the broken pieces then back up at Qyburn.

"Do you see how the candle broke without exploding?" Qyburn asked, as if he were an instructor and they were his students.

"Ahh, I understand now." Davos nodded his head. "You added tallow to the wildfire so that it's no longer a liquid. The tallow hardens and stabilizes the wildfire. It'll become wildfire candles."

"Yes, exactly!" Qyburn's face and movements became animated, as if he was pleased his pupils understood the lesson. "Not only is it stable but it's also more potent. Why is that?"

"Because liquids, like water, are thin and will spread out," Davos spoke slowly, as he worked out the details in his mind. "Wildfire candles can be cut into any size and shape desired, focused to the area you need it."

"Correct, Ser –" Qyburn stopped questioningly.

Davos sat up straight. "I'm Ser Davos Seaworth, advisor to the King in the North."

Qyburn nodded. "Correct, Ser Davos. The wildfire is now like candles but we don't need a wick to light them. Any type of flame will do."

"Could we coat our swords or perhaps arrows with it?" Jorah asked.

Qyburn shook his head. "There's no value in coating swords. Wildfire explodes when it catches fire. The sword would explode in your hand."

"But we could coat arrows. Once they land where we want them, then the archer could shoot a burning arrow to ignite them. One wildfire arrow exploding will ignite the next," Jon surmised. "Correct?"

"Very good, your Grace." Qyburn nodded again. "That's an excellent application for the solid wildfire."

"You're a very learned man, Lord Qyburn," Daenerys noted. "You should be teaching in a great center of learning."

The animation faded from Qyburn's features. "I was a maester, your Grace, until the Citadel took my chain for my curiosity. They took away my dream of learning and serving a higher purpose. For a time, I was desperately lost, ready to die, until I met my true queen. She gave me a reason to live, a purpose for my life. My every action is a tribute to her glory."

Daenerys's eyes widened and she turned to stare at Cersei. Everyone else also stared at Cersei, except the dragons. The former queen sat very straight, smirking upon hearing Qyburn's reverent statement. Brienne and Podrick exchanged mystified glances. How could a woman as selfish and cruel as Cersei garner such loyalty from her Hand? What had she done for Qyburn to warrant his blind devotion?

"So, it's safe?" Jon demanded, bringing their attention back to the topic at hand. "We can take the wildfire up north?"

"It's not safe," Qyburn corrected. "Just as a candle near fire isn't safe, neither is wildfire. But it is stable, if you keep it away from flames."

Jon relaxed and smiled again. "There's our solution, Ser Davos. We can control the wildfire and use it strategically."

Ser Davos nodded in agreement. There was a palpable shift in the energy of the room, a sense of relief that one difficult problem had been addressed. Then Bronn turned in his seat and raised his hand, just as a true pupil would before asking a question. Qyburn nodded graciously.

"Why's there so much wildfire?" Bronn demanded. "Your queen planning on blowing up half of Westeros?"

"No," Qyburn responded.

He looked at Cersei again. She nodded approvingly at him, her eyes glittering with their own version of wildfire. Beside her, Jaime stiffened but said nothing. Tyrion frowned, his mouth pulled down and suspicion darkened his eyes.

Tyrion looked between his sister and her former Hand, his eyes narrowing. "I know my sister. She didn't stockpile all that liquid death just to admire it. Cersei may not intend to blow up half of Westeros, but she did plan to blow up something, didn't she?"

"He answered your question," Cersei snapped. "I will not allow you to badger my Hand."

Jon frowned at Cersei. His eyes also narrowed. "Lord Qyburn, did Cersei have specific targets for all that wildfire?"

Cersei glared at Jon. "Lord Qyburn, you will not answer him."

Qyburn looked at Cersei then shifted his gaze to Daenerys. The queen met his gaze and nodded gravely, encouraging him to answer. Qyburn turned back to look at Jon. The dragons shifted, sensing a change in the air, but remained calm.

"Yes, your Grace," he admitted. "She planned to destroy four locations; Dragonstone, Storm's End, Highgarden and Guildhall in Oldtown."

"What?" Cersei jumped out of her seat. "He doesn't know what he's saying!"

The dragons screeched and spread their wings. Brienne and Podrick grabbed at them. Qyburn jerked back, eyes widening as he stared at the five. Cersei froze, fear darkening her eyes as she stared at the dragons.

"Sit down," Daenerys ordered, glaring at Cersei. "Or I'll have you wrapped in chains."

Cersei looked from the queen to the dragons then slowly sat down again.

"Why?" Jon asked. "Why does Cersei want to destroy those targets?"

"Dragonstone and Storm's End are on the Narrow Sea," Qyburn explained. "Cersei anticipated the Dragon Queen would land at one or the other. She expected the dragons would ignite the wildfire and destroy the ancestral homes of the Targaryens or the Baratheons. She hated the Targaryens for refusing to marry her to Rhaegar. And she hated the Baratheons for being forced to endure Robert. Also, she'd tell the Westerosi lords Daenerys had come to burn down their homes and kill their families. But the Dragon Queen came to Westeros sooner than anticipated so there wasn't time to deliver the shipments to their destinations."

"I was protecting my people," Cersei hissed. "The wildfire would kill the savage armies. I was defending our shores from foreign invaders."

Daenerys's face flushed at the insults. "I didn't need to invade Westeros. The people welcomed the compassionate ruler who freed them from your tyranny."

"Queen Daenerys, we're here to share information, not hurl accusations," Jon reminded her gently. He waited for her to nod before turning back to Qyburn. "Why Oldtown and Highgarden?"

Qyburn pressed his hands together. "Before Cersei ordered the destruction of the Sept of Baelor, she had the pyromancers at the Guildhall of the Alchemists killed. She didn't want them telling anyone of her plans or accuse her of the act. But they'd already sent their diaries of how and why they created wildfire to their main center in Oldtown. Cersei planned to blow up the Guildhall in Oldtown to destroy the evidence and accuse the alchemists of plotting against the crown to hide her guilt."

"The destruction of the sept was a terrible accident," Cersei insisted. "I executed the alchemists _after_ the sept was destroyed to punish their experiments that led to the explosion."

"And Highgarden?" Jon pressed. "Why Highgarden?"

"The remaining lords in the Reach refuse to send food supplies to King's Landing," Qyburn explained. "She thought destroying Highgarden would scare them into sending food aid again. Plus, she knows the people loved Margaery. Cersei despised Margaery. She wanted to destroy any reminders of the people's queen."

"Highgarden has no armies to protect it," Cersei spoke through clenched teeth. "The lords of the Reach sent their men to guard Queen Margaery's ancestral home. They have no one to gather the harvest. The wildfire would have protected the castle and allowed the lords to focus their men on harvesting food to feed the hungry masses."

"Guards gathering harvest? Using wildfire to protect an unoccupied keep? Executing traitorous pyromancers while still in shock over your son's death? Blowing up centuries old castles that can only hold a few hundred to stop whole armies?" Tyrion looked at his sister thoughtfully. "You really believe your own lies, don't you?"

"They're not lies," Cersei insisted. "I'm the queen. I was acting to defend my people."

"A few minutes ago, you couldn't care less about the people. Now you say you were defending them. You said your Hand, the one who knows all your secrets, was loyal to you. Now the same man, who said his life's purpose is to further your glory, is lying about you?" Tyrion snorted. "I don't believe it."

"I don't care what you believe, you ugly little traitor," Cersei spat.

"Ugly, debatable. Little, yes. Traitor, no," Tyrion corrected mildly. "I care about saving all of Westeros. The first enemy we need to save it from is you."

Jon ignored the glowering siblings. His focus remained on Qyburn. The ex-maester was calm and composed, meeting the king's gaze, as if daring him to ask more questions.

"Why did you lose your chain, Lord Qyburn?" Jon asked.

"The other maesters considered my experiments too bold, your Grace," Qyburn explained. "They wanted only to study the dead and not the living. How can we serve the living if we only try to understand the dead?"

Jon looked thoughtful. "You experimented on the dying, didn't you? Trying to find out why they were dying and how they reacted to experimental treatments."

"Yes." Qyburn looked hopeful. "You understand, don't you? Why can two men have the same wound, the same cause, yet one dies and the other lives? How can we save the dying unless we understand how they live?"

Jon nodded and studied the former maester. "Why does a man like you, who can do so much to protect people, choose to serve a woman like Cersei Lannister?"

The dragons tensed, sensing another shift in the air. For the first time, Catren, Allwyn and Gallan focused on Qyburn while Ardayn and Serdun continued to watch Gregor. Brienne and Podrick exchanged concerned looks. The dragons now thought the former Hand was a danger. Something in his manner or perhaps a change in his scent, had alerted them.

Cersei hissed and raised her chin. Qyburn glanced at her, his eyes cool and unreadable. Then he looked back at Jon.

"I don't _serve_ Cersei Lannister," he corrected. "Cersei Lannister serves _me_. She's my puppet, the tool I used to kill my enemies; Tywin Lannister, his house, his legacy and his seed. Through her, I've destroyed House Lannister and all those who would aid it."

"What?" Cersei cried out and jumped up from her seat.

Jaime and Tyrion, both wide-eyed, looked from Qyburn to Cersei and back again. The dragons spread their wings, shielding Brienne and Podrick from the sudden emotional spike.

"What are you saying?" Jaime snarled, rising half out of his chair, his hand curled threateningly on _Widow's Wail's_ pommel.

Immediately, Brienne and Podrick lunged for the dragons, keeping them back when they began to puff and hiss. Jaime turned to the dragons and froze, half in, half out, of his chair. Jon looked from the defensive dragons to Jaime.

"Sit down and shut up!" Jon ordered.

"Allow me, your Grace," Qyburn offered. He looked to Gregor still standing behind Jaime and Cersei. "Ser Gregor, please restrain the former queen and her lover-brother."

Gregor immediately slapped his hands on the twins' shoulders, forcing them back into their seats. Jaime grunted while Cersei cried out.

"Release me!" she screamed. "Ser Gregor, I order you to release me!"

Everyone watched in amazement as Gregor kept his hands on the twins' shoulders, keeping them in their chairs with ease. Gregor had never refused Cersei's orders before. The dragons hissed but folded their wings, watching the room with renewed focus. Qyburn looked at Cersei with open disgust in his eyes.

"Every time I think I reached the depths of her stupidity, she sinks lower and proves me wrong," Qyburn noted. He glared at the former queen. "I'm not you. I'm not stupid enough to unleash a weapon I can't control."

Everyone looked back to Qyburn. Many gasped in shock. Qyburn now appeared taller, his back straight, shoulders squared, chest lifted. His face was no longer soft and his eyes no longer dull. His jaw was tight, his eyes gleamed brightly and the cunning intelligence he'd kept hidden was now evident for all to see. The soft, mailable servant who'd done Cersei's bidding dissolved, revealing the hard, focused man underneath the bland disguise.

"No!" Cersei gasped, her eyes widening in horror.

Beside her, Jaime made a sound but couldn't find words in the face of Qyburn's transformation. Tyrion's eyes were so wide his forehead disappeared under his hair. Jon glanced at Tyrion before looking at Sandor. The Hound wasn't watching the ex-maester. Sandor stared at his brother, his expression caught between disgust and horror.

"Sandor, take Ser Jaime's sword before we continue," Jon ordered. "It's best he's not armed for the rest of Lord Qyburn's story."

Sandor rose from his seat next to Davos, furthest down from the dragons he could be without taking Jon or Davos's seats, to walk along the table to Jaime. The dragons watched him with interest from their spots near the windows but weren't disturbed by the younger Clegane brother.

"Ser Gregor, please remove Ser Jaime's sword and hand it to your brother," Qyburn requested.

Gregor released Cersei to reach down for _Widow's Wail_, keeping his other hand on Jaime's shoulder. Jaime tried to jerk away. Gregor released Jaime and calmly smashed his elbow into Jaime's temple, upending his chair and sending him tumbling to the floor. Cersei, Tyrion and Brienne all cried out. Brienne impulsively moved forward but the dragons hissed and stretched out their wings again, keeping her behind them.

Sandor stopped beside Jaime's chair and waited for him to regain his seat. Jaime had a visible bruise, reddening and puffing, as he dragged himself off the floor and back into his chair. Gregor straightened, _Widow's Wail_ in his hand. He held the sword out to his little brother. Sandor stared at Gregor but the queensguard didn't move or react, his red eyes dull and unblinking.

"What did you do to him," Sandor growled. "He's not even alive anymore."

"No, not alive, but not dead either," Qyburn explained. "It's been a pleasure to experiment on him. I've learned a great deal about the human tolerance for pain from it."

Gregor clamped his hands again on Cersei and Jaime's shoulders, keeping them in their chairs. Sandor gave the sword to Jon then returned to his seat. The King in the North put the sword on the floor beside him and turned back to Qyburn.

"Now, explain to us how _you_ destroyed House Lannister," Jon ordered.

Qyburn nodded. "I came to King's Landing with Ser Jaime and Lady Brienne, forgive me, Lady _Ser _Brienne. I treated Ser Jaime's infected arm, after his hand was cut off. I was sure that would be enough to grant me an audience with Lord Tywin and give me an opportunity to kill him."

Jaime gasped but said nothing. Jon looked at him then turned back to Qyburn, nodding for him to continue. Behind Qyburn, the dragons folded their wings and eased back into guard mode.

"Initially I planned to only kill Tywin Lannister and his vile children. Then I met Cersei and my plans changed," Qyburn explained. "I'd never met a human being like her before."

Jon frowned. "How did she change your plans? Did she prevent you from reaching Tywin?"

"No, your Grace. I saw what she was and knew I'd found a better way," Qyburn explained. "She was so cruel she denied food to starving babes; so selfish she'd rather her son live in misery than find happiness with another; so stupid she bullied sycophants and servants thinking that was power and so vain she fucked her brother and cousin because they were a reflection of herself."

Cersei snarled, her face blood red, but helpless to act with Gregor holding her down. Qyburn began to shift, almost rocking in place, his self-satisfaction apparent in his energized movement. Gloating over his success had brought color to his cheeks and animation to his actions.

"I knew a creature so morally corrupt would be the perfect weapon to destroy not just Tywin but everything he held dear. I could force Tywin to watch his dynasty crumble before his very eyes, his prized only daughter the weapon that destroyed his dreams. So, I made myself helpful. I knew Cersei was too arrogant to understand who served her out of necessity and who served her for loyalty." He glared at the former queen. "To clarify, no one, other than your supremely stupid lover-brother, served you out of loyalty. We all had agendas."

Jaime flushed bright red and closed his eyes, as if trying to deny Qyburn's words. Brienne's heart ached for him. This was the weakness that had destroyed Jaime time and again, kept him from reaching his greatness. He loved Cersei above all things, even his own common sense.

"I had no trouble getting close to Cersei and her equally cruel, selfish, vile son Joffery," Qyburn went on. "It didn't take me long to notice Olenna Tyrell wasn't happy her granddaughter was to marry the cowardly bastard Lannister king. So, I sent her a tonic to her rooms to help her relax. I left very clear instructions that a single drop in a pitcher of water was the only safe dose and that the tonic should never be mixed with wine in any circumstances. Doing so would increase the potency of the tonic even beyond its current already potentially lethal strength."

Cersei's breathing became audible. She was almost gasping for breath.

"I waited and waited. I feared Olenna hadn't understood the value of my gift, until the wedding. Given how violently Joffery died, Olenna must have poured the entire vial into a single cup of wine. The inside of Joffery's throat had completely burned away." Qyburn shrugged. "A fitting end. Every word out of his mouth was as corrupted as he was."

Cersei cried out, her eyes darkening with rage. Jaime opened his eyes to stare at Qyburn. Tyrion dropped his head, unable to look at the man who had orchestrated Joffery's murder and his own downfall. Brienne remembered that day, the horror of watching Joffery die, the shock of Tyrion's arrest and the mass confusion after the death of the king.

"They never thought to question how the poison could have gotten into Joffrey's cup, even with all the food tasters and noble guests present. Any rational person would have tried to track the poison back to its source. Luckily, Cersei isn't capable of logic or reason." Qyburn smiled. "The vile Queen Mother immediately blamed her imp-brother for the crime. I'd snared two Lannisters with a single trap."

Tyrion hissed and raised his head. He glared at Cersei, banked fury in his eyes. Tyrion has been married to Lady Sansa at the time, relentlessly humiliated by Joffery and sneered at by Cersei. Brienne had compassion for the youngest Lannister. Sansa had told her of how Tyrion had tried to protect her after their marriage.

"But it wasn't as I'd hoped," Qyburn admitted. "Tywin was happy the imp was imprisoned. But my despair was short-lived. The imp wanted a trial by combat. Oberyn Martell was killed, thus planting the seeds for war with Dorne. Even better, my stupid puppet, Cersei, gave me Gregor Clegane, the man who'd slit my throat and left me for dead at Harrenhal."

Qyburn drifted over to Gregor, who still restrained Jaime and Cersei. Daenerys opened her mouth to speak but Jon held up his hand and tilted his head meaningfully towards the gloating ex-maester. Daenerys closed her mouth and nodded in return. They both resumed watching Qyburn.

"It was such a pleasure to have Ser Gregor in my control." Qyburn gently stroked Gregor's back. "I didn't know what I was capable of doing to another human being until I had the man who'd almost murdered me at my mercy. Do you know why Ser Gregor never removes his helm or armor, Cersei?"

Cersei looked up at Gregor and Qyburn with fear in her eyes. She shook her head but refused to speak.

"You don't want to know," Qyburn confided. "I've done things to him you wouldn't dream of. You, who killed hundreds then walked over their corpses while you enjoyed your wine, even you couldn't imagine what I did."

Everyone looked at Cersei in disgust. Cersei shuddered visibly and closed her eyes. Jaime stared at his sister in mounting horror. Tyrion drew in a sharp breath and shook his head.

"Having Ser Gregor at my disposal was a joy but the imp escaped his death. And he killed Tywin too soon." Qyburn glared at Tyrion, seated across the table. "I was upset about that. I wanted to save Tywin for last, allow him to watch the destruction of everything he held dear."

Tyrion glared at Qyburn but said nothing. He'd been innocent of Joffery's killing but that hadn't mattered to his sister and father. Killing Tyrion would probably have given them a measure of joy after the misery of Joffery's death.

"But no matter, I moved on." Qyburn smiled. "Oberyn's death nearly destroyed relations with Dorne. The only thing that kept them from declaring war on the Lannisters was Myrcella. The Martells truly liked her and wanted her marriage to Trystane. Not even the Sand Snakes would have harmed Myrcella if she'd stayed in Dorne, without Lannister interference. In fact, Prince Doran planned to press for her right to sit on the Iron Throne. Dorne allows women equal rights of inheritance. They felt she deserved the throne over the weakling bastard Tommen."

Cersei whimpered and Jaime shut his eyes again. Tyrion jerked in his seat but Bronn put his hand on Tyrion's shoulder. Tyrion shuddered but didn't speak.

Qyburn shrugged and continued walking. "I couldn't let that happened. It was bad enough one Lannister bastard sat on the throne but two rival Lannister bastards? Worse, a Lannister bastard with a steady, intelligent regent to guide her? Myrcella would've become a competent ruler with Dorne at her back. Doran wasn't the impulsive, selfish fool Cersei was."

A sob escaped Cersei. Jaime moaned. Brienne stared at the ex-maester, still stunned by the reveal of his true nature. She'd travelled from Harrenhal with the man and never saw the truth beneath the bland exterior. Her focus had been Jaime, who'd regained some of his will to live once they were on their way back to King's Landing. Qyburn had worked hard to keep him alive then only to maim him worse now with deep cruelties.

"By then, I'd won over many of Lord Varys's little birds all over the kingdom, including Dorne. I had them steal Myrcella's Lannister necklace. Then I left a stuffed red viper in Cersei's private chambers with the necklace and a threat." Qyburn shook his head. "Along with being selfish and cruel, Cersei is impulsive. She can't think through her actions to their consequences. Her lover-brother doesn't even try."

Cersei shook her head. Brienne didn't know if she was denying Qyburn's words or the results of his actions. Jaime grunted but didn't open his eyes. Tyrion watched Qyburn with fury in his eyes.

"Neither thought to question how an obvious threat, _with a note attached_, was delivered into the Queen Mother's private, heavily guarded chambers." Qyburn shook his head. "Any other person, with normal intelligence, would have wanted to question the person who delivered the package or saw the package delivered. But not the incest twins. Not only did they share a womb, but they seem to share a single, semi-functional mind."

Tyrion grunted. Jon frowned at him and Tyrion nodded, swallowing hard to control his emotions. Qyburn didn't notice as he slowly began to walk along the table, leaving Gregor to restrain Jaime and Cersei. Brienne looked down at the dragons. Amazingly they had relaxed. Qyburn, the man currently boasting about causing the death of Jaime and Cersei's only daughter, didn't threaten them.

"I'd hoped Cersei would send her army and declare war on Dorne. Her forces would have been slaughtered, weakening her further, especially since I'd warn Dorne to expect them. I'd even send the Lannister army off with mild doses of my tonic, to suppress their strength. But, instead, she sent her lover-brother to retrieve their daughter."

Qyburn was now near Daenerys at the end of the table. Jorah shifted in his seat, his hand on his sword, watching the former maester intently. Qyburn was still focused on his story, seeming unaware of Daenerys. He turned to look at Jaime.

"So, the Kingslayer went to Dorne to retrieve Myrcella. I warned the Sand Snakes Cersei would double-cross them once her daughter was back in King's Landing. She'd break the marriage contract and marry Myrcella into another house to prevent her ascension." Qyburn smiled. "Ellaria Sand was furious. She'd had been denied revenge for Oberyn's death. Now they wouldn't even get the throne once Myrcella left Dorne. Killing her was the only revenge they could take on the Lannisters. Then, in their thirst for further vengeance, they killed the ruling members of House Martell."

Qyburn waited a moment, letting his words sink in. Cersei appeared to be shutting down, her face hardening into a beautiful mask, cold and rigid. Beside her, Jaime shuddered, his face losing color. The last time Brienne had seen him so grey and colorless was when he wanted to die, after losing his hand. Qyburn noticed Jaime's distress and chuckled.

"Tell me, Kingslayer, were you shocked stupid, well, more stupid than usual, when you found your daughter safe, happy and well-protected in Dorne?" Qyburn taunted. "Were you confused to see your daughter enjoyed her happy, well-adjusted new family? Does it break your heart to know you took Myrcella away from the only place in all of Westeros where she was truly safe? If it weren't for your impulsive stupidity, yours and your sister's, your daughter might still be alive today."

Qyburn walked to the other side of Daenerys's chair, between her and Missandei. Brienne looked down at the dragons but they were silent and still, as if listening to Qyburn. Missandei glanced at the dragons and relaxed visibly, _Dragon's Heart _gleaming from her belt.

Qyburn sighed dramatically. "I didn't have time to savor my victory. Stupid, _stupid_ Cersei, in her boundless jealousy of Margaery, had given free rein to the Faith Militants. Cersei was the only one who didn't understand they'd imprison her, too, at the first opportunity." Qyburn glared at Cersei in utter disgust. "Only a fool stirs a snake pit then is shocked when the snakes attack him. Cersei is such a fool. Her imprisonment was nearly a disaster for me. It brought Kevan Lannister back to King's Landing."

Qyburn shuddered at the memory. "Like Doran, Kevan was smart and direct. He ignored my attempts to ingratiate myself to him. My meek, humble act didn't impress him. It was Myrcella all over again. Another Lannister bastard, managed by a competent regent, threatening to become an acceptable ruler. Worse, Tommen had Margaery, a queen so beloved, the people threatened to riot in her defense. No, I needed my puppet back. Only Cersei could destroy Kevan and Tommen for me. Fortunately, she'd already told me about the wildfire."

Tyrion's eyes were shut, pressed together so hard the rims were red. Across from him, Cersei was frozen, eyes dry, so still she could have been carved from stone. Jaime uttered a strangled moan and covered his eyes with his hand. Instinctively Brienne moved to comfort him. The dragons hissed and spread their wings again, keeping her behind them. It was just as well. Jaime was suffering the results of his own actions. No words from her would soften the blows.

"As I anticipated, after her walk of atonement, Cersei was beyond reason. There was no impulse control left in her. Kevan wasn't Tywin, he could guide Tommen but he couldn't restrain Cersei. Giving her Ser Gregor gave her greater reliance on me and strengthened her false sense of control." Qyburn relaxed visibly. "As I said before, she's so stupid she believed ordering around sycophants and servants was a display of power. She couldn't understand bullying those beneath her wasn't power, it was pathetic." Qyburn stepped back, so he was between Daenerys and Brienne. "These women have real power."

Brienne and Daenerys exchanged uneasy glances. Both looked at the dragons, but they were still calm. The dragons sensed something in Qyburn the humans were missing. But then Qyburn had proven to be deft at hiding his true nature. The man was far more cunning and clever than they'd imagined.

"Look at these women, Cersei," Qyburn continued. "They walked into King's Landing and took your city, your castle, your guards, your throne and your illusion of control. They didn't bully, they didn't kill. They just claimed what they wanted. That's _real_ power."

Brienne shuddered. She didn't want power. She wanted to be an honorable knight. She _was_ an honorable knight, waiting to serve her king. People like Cersei and Qyburn, who treated human life like a commodity, to be traded and sold, sickened her. How did Griff, or Jon and Daenerys for that matter, manage it? How did they guard their souls from blackening under the constant onslaught of selfish, grasping people who only wanted to take, to destroy? How could a king be just and honorable when the world was not?

"Cersei wanted to destroy the Sept of Baelor early in the morning, when the High Sparrow and his militant zealots were in their morning prayer," Qyburn continued. "She thought it would be poetic justice, killing them as they prayed for their false mercy. I immediately saw the flaw in that plan. Kevan and Margaery would still be alive, still supporting the weakling bastard Tommen, still molding him into an acceptable king." He chuckled. "We all know how that worked out."

Tyrion stared at Cersei, small fists clenched, nearly shaking as he tried to control himself. Bronn kept his hand on Tyrion's shoulder, but for support, not to restrain as Gregor did. Jaime was limp, slumped under Gregor's hand, like a man defeated. Cersei was still frozen, eyes dry and dilated until the wildfire green was only a ring around the dead black. Everyone else looked around uneasily, unnerved by Qyburn's casual destruction. Everyone except the dragons. Qyburn didn't bother them.

"But first, we had to distract the Kingslayer." Qyburn moved so he was now behind Tyrion, looking across the table at Jaime and Cersei. "I didn't think he had any honor in him but Cersei had doubts. She wanted him out of the way so he couldn't stop her or stupidly get himself killed in the Sept. I agreed because I saw an opportunity to destroy him, his men and the traitorous Lannister supporters, House Frey, at the same time. I had my little birds smuggle a jug of my tonic along with the Lannister troops. Alas, they didn't have time to pour it into the wine before the Frey oafs began drinking. Then the Kingslayer left early, no doubt eager to return to his sister's bed."

The siege at Riverrun. That was the first time she'd seen Jaime with _Widow's Wail_ at his hip, had known he was one of the Gods' warriors. Brienne shuddered at how close Jaime had been to dying with the Freys. He'd broken the siege and dined with the Walder and his sons. Only the greed of the Frey bannermen had saved him that night.

Qyburn sighed. "I mourned the lost opportunity until my little birds informed me a _girl_ had killed Walder Frey's sons. They said she was so quick and light, she moved like a dancer. The only assassins who move like that are Braavosi and the only girls who can kill like that come from the House of Black and White. I told my little bird to greet the girl with 'valar morghulis.' If she replied 'valar dohaeris' the bird was to tell her where to find my tonic and how to use it. A few days later, House Frey paid for turning to the Lannisters."

Jon reacted to that, jerking in his seat to exchange shocked looks with Brienne. The Freys had murdered King Robb, his pregnant wife, Talisa, Lady Catelyn and the Stark bannermen. Qyburn had aided an assassin into avenging the Red Wedding. A Braavosi assassin who moved like a dancer, a girl who could water-dance. Brienne had only met one such girl in Westeros. In fact, she'd crossed blades with her – in Winterfell.

"The Starks killed the turncoat Boltons." Qyburn finished his circle to stand beside Jon. "Now I only had to destroy Tywin's children and their bannermen. First and easiest was House Tyrell. Cersei didn't even have to be talked into killing them. Olenna had sided with the Dragon Queen. The Kingslayer required a little convincing but I told Cersei what to say to him. I have to give him credit. He might be a slow learner but he recited my argument to Olenna exactly. Can you repeat it for us now, Kingslayer?"

Jaime looked at him silently, impotent rage and misery crackling in his wildfire eyes, his mouth pressed into a quivering line.

"That's alright, I remember. I taught it to Cersei." Qyburn cleared his throat dramatically. "You said 'After we've won and there's no one left to oppose us, when people are living peacefully in the world she built, do you really think they'll wring their hands in the way she built it?' What do you think now, Kingslayer? Do you want to wring your hands in the way she built _your_ world?"

Qyburn's gaze shifted to Cersei. She was statue-still under Gregor's hand but tears had finally started to flow. They streamed down her cheeks and splashed on the front of her simple dress. Qyburn looked back to Jaime, pure malice gleaming in his eyes.

"Olenna was right," Qyburn continued. "Your sister is a disease. I know. I've studied disease, how to contain it and how to spread it. Olenna lived to regret her part in spreading Cersei. What about you, Kingslayer? Now do you regret following your sister so blindly? You pressed yourself so closely to her, you didn't even see her destroying your honor, your house, your family, your children and even your life. Tell me, do you enjoy living in the world she built?"

Jaime's face lost all color as the blinders finally fell from his eyes. The true price of all he'd sacrificed for his sister was laid bare for him to see. Cersei looked equally shocked, stunned by what her ambition had cost her and her family. Tyrion's gaze darted between them, fury and regret directed at both of them.

"Look at what you've done, for Cersei," Tyrion whispered. "You gave her everything and she ruined it all. Like any epidemic, she infected and ravaged everyone who came into contact with her. The more you loved her, the more Father indulged her, the worse she became, until she destroyed the very best of us. Now, all that's left is the worst of us. I warned you, brother, but you couldn't stop yourself. You were too badly infected. You lived for Cersei. Now it appears you may have to die for her, too."

"No!" Brienne cried out.

The cry was in her head, silent and echoing. Her lips didn't move, even though her heart twisted and ached. Bitter acceptance kept her from speaking. She could save Jaime from lawless men, ugly lies and dishonor, but she couldn't save him from his greatest weakness. She couldn't save him from his own heart and the instinctive desire that had shattered his whole world. Perhaps love was a powerful force after all, able to break families, destroy armies and blind men to their own fates.

House Lannister had its roots in the Age of Heroes, thousands of years previous. It had withstood wars, treachery, and political maneuvering. The family had flourished for generations. Tywin had tried to extend that dynasty, ruthlessly plotting and killing to keep himself and his house powerful. Now it had fallen to the enemy Tywin Lannister hadn't seen and couldn't defeat, to the greatest power the Gods' could offer.

House Lannister had fallen for love.


	25. Puppeteer Keeper

**THE KEEPER**

Chapter 25 – Puppeteer Keeper

Silence hung heavy in the air, like a shimmering mist. For a moment, everyone was stunned still. Jaime breathed deeply, his eyes red-rimmed and watery, staring at nothing in shattering, aching grief. Cersei sat beside him, so still it appeared she might shatter from the slightest movement. The tears falling from her eyes were her only reaction. Tyrion stared helplessly at his brother and sister, his expression caught between anger and regret.

Qyburn watched them, a small, satisfied smile tugging at his lips. "It's a wonder they survived this long," he murmured, "being as blind and as stupid as they are. That's why I had to give Ser Gregor to Cersei. I knew, without someone to protect her, her enemies would kill her within a fortnight."

Cersei blinked rapidly but showed no other reactions. Jon looked from Qyburn to the grieving Lannister siblings then back to Qyburn.

"There's more, isn't there?" Jon asked quietly.

Qyburn took a few more seconds to savor the Lannister siblings' responses before reluctantly turning back to look at Jon. The cool smile on the ex-maester's face showed how much pleasure he took in his accomplishments. Still, he tried to smooth out his expression as he faced the King in the North.

"Yes, your Grace," Qyburn nodded. "While Ser Jaime was stupidly gloating over the destruction of his own life, the Unsullied were walking into a trap at Casterly Rock. The Iron Fleet would attack them from behind, destroy their ships and leave them to starve. Cersei thought the gold mines had dried out and the Rock was expendable." Qyburn rubbed his hands together, enjoying share his tale. "I knew that wasn't so. The mines are as rich as they ever were."

Brienne was distracted from watching Qyburn by Tyrion's sudden twitch. He looked away from his siblings to turn at Daenerys. The queen raised her eyebrows and nodded, a faint smile on her face. It seemed Daenerys and Tyrion already knew Casterly Rock wasn't barren. Tyrion turned back to look at Qyburn, his expression easing as he put aside his grief and focused on Qyburn's revelations.

"Kevan may have refused me a seat on the council but he couldn't hide his secrets from my little birds. I learned Tywin and Kevan had an ingenious method of protecting the Rock's gold mines. Do you know how Tywin and Kevan protected the wealth of Casterly Rock for all these years, Cersei?" Qyburn taunted. "Did you really think they left the mines open for guards, servants and thieves to pilfer while they were in King's Landing?"

Cersei didn't reply. Jaime stared at Qyburn, blank-faced. Brienne knew Jaime didn't care where his family's wealth came from or how it was protected. It only mattered to him that it was there, available for his use when he needed. He'd furnished her with a lavish purse when he'd sent her to find Sansa and Arya.

"No?" Qyburn tisked at the Lannister twin's silence. "All the wealth in the world and you didn't care to protect it? But why would you? You didn't even care to protect your own children."

Jaime growled at that. Then he grunted when Ser's Gregor's hold on his shoulder tightened visibly. Cersei was still and silent. Tyrion sighed softly and shook his head. Given the look he'd exchanged with Daenerys, Tyrion had thought about it and probably knew how the Rock's gold was protected.

"Thank you, Ser Gregor. You don't have to hold him so tightly. Ser Jaime won't fight. He knows he's not a hero. He's just a soiled White Cloak and as useless as any other knight here in King's Landing." He waited for Gregor to loosen his grip then turned to look at Brienne, staying safely at Jon's side, out of the dragons' fire range. "Are you sure the Gods need him, my Lady Ser? What do the Gods want with such a cowardly, dishonorable, corrupt excuse for a man?"

"Ser Jaime is none of those things," Brienne insisted. She kept her voice low and calm, aware the dragons were tense. "You were with us at Harrenhal. You saw Ser Jaime jump into that bear pit. He was weak and feverish from losing his hand, but he still risked his life to protect mine. He refused to leave the pit until they pulled me out first. He saved my life."

Cersei reacted to that. She blinked again, rapidly, but was still otherwise unmoving. Jaime stared at Brienne intently, as if trying to absorb her unfaltering faith in him. His eyes were still shocked and wounded but not as dead as they'd been before she spoke.

Qyburn studied the dragons thoughtfully. The five were tense but calm, still focused on Gregor, but alert to any changes in the room that might threaten Brienne.

"Yes, he did," Qyburn agreed. "Thus, allowing you to live and birth dragons. The same dragons that now rule King's Landing. The Kingslayer's decision eventually toppled his sister's reign and put her rival on the remains of the Iron Throne. It appears he was as much your puppet as Cersei was mine."

Brienne gasped and shook her head. That wasn't what she meant. She'd never tried to use Jaime. He was her friend and her savior, the reason she was still alive today. She was the Gods' warrior, alive to follow their will because Jaime had risked his life for hers. Jaime had an important part to play in the war against the Army of the Dead. The Gods had kept him alive, even when he should've died many times; while captive in the North, when they were in the Riverlands, after he'd lost his hand, the bear pit and in the Gold Road. He'd been one of the Gods' warriors long before she'd realized it.

"Brienne," Jon spoke gently, interrupting her thoughts. "This isn't the time to go into that. Please let Lord Qyburn finish. I'm interested in hearing about the Casterly gold mines."

Brienne gritted her teeth but nodded. Jon was right. There was far more at stake than Qyburn's opinion of Jaime. Beside her, Podrick leaned closer, as if to let her know he understood. She flashed her squire a quick smile.

"Continue, Lord Qyburn," Jon ordered. "How did the Lannisters protect the Rock's gold?"

"They simply caused cave-ins to hide the live gold veins, your Grace. It made it appear the mines had run dry. They could easily clear the vein when they needed gold but made it impossible for anyone to sneak in and mine the gold themselves. That preserved the mines for future use but discouraged potential raiders and," Qyburn smirked at Cersei, "the stupid daughter who'd killed the only man who knew where the live veins were."

Tyrion shook his head again. Jaime looked at him and furrowed his brow. Tyrion nodded. The youngest Lannister had known how the mines were protected. Suddenly Brienne recalled their conversation at the Painted Table at Dragonstone.

_Daenerys sighed. "Casterly Rock is not much of a prize. Cersei left it open for us."_

"_The Rock may still be useful," Tyrion said thoughtfully. "I sent a raven to Grey Worm. I asked him to check out a few things for me."_

"I knew Casterly Rock was a valuable target and had to be preserved," Qyburn continued, drawing Brienne's attention back to the matter at hand. "I'd already had wildfire smuggled into the mines. My little birds waited for the battle to end and the Unsullied to take the castle then they ignited it. Now, the gold mines are open and the wealth of Casterly Rock is out of the Lannister's hands. The gold allowed the Unsullied to buy food and supplies in Lannisport."

"That was you?" Missandei gasped.

She took a deep breath and exchanged glances with Daenerys. The queen smiled back at her advisor. Jorah nodded thoughtfully. Brienne could almost see them fitting puzzle pieces in their minds. In his eagerness to take the Rock away from Cersei, Qyburn had helped the Unsullied survive Cersei's trap.

Qyburn nodded. "It also placed the Unsullied in position to kill the Ironborn men when they came ashore to sack Lannisport. All of the men loyal to Euron Greyjoy have been eliminated, weakening his naval forces. I believe the Unsullied took their ships, did they not?"

Tyrion's expression was caught between understanding and disbelief. Daenerys, Missandei and Jorah looked at Qyburn with awed gratitude. He'd manipulated Cersei into giving away one of her most powerful assets. Once the Unsullied had Casterly Rock, the wealth of the Westerlands, gold _and_ the goodwill of the people, shifted to Daenerys. By holding the Rock and protecting the people of Lannisport from the Ironborn attack, Daenerys had shown both her military might and her compassion.

"The Unsullied lost very few men during the conquest, even though Euron Greyjoy's forces destroyed my ships," Daenerys spoke. "My commander said children warned them the Ironborn were coming. Was that you, too?"

Qyburn bowed to her, while still at Jon's side. "Yes, it was. My little birds were on hand to warn your men of the pending _Iron Fleet_ attack. The Unsullied took the castle swiftly. They stayed behind the protection of the walls rather than engage in a battle for your ships. Your commander is an intelligent man. He knew fifty ships weren't worth losing men as skilled in combat as the Unsullied."

"Grey Worm," Missandei spoke. "His name is Grey Worm. Yes, he's an intelligent and capable commander. He'll die for his men but he won't allow them to die needlessly." She swallowed visibly. "I thank you for protecting him, for protecting them."

Qyburn nodded. "Of course, my lady. It's an honor to assist those who serve my queen's cause."

Missandei's eyes widened and she shared a shocked glance with Daenerys. Brienne stilled, guilt burning through her body, as hot as Drogon's fire in the cave in the Disputed Lands. Qyburn didn't follow Cersei, just as she didn't follow Jon. Qyburn had sabotaged Cersei from within, all the while truthfully assuring her, he would do anything to serve his true queen. But Cersei wasn't his queen. He'd maintained the disguise of her meek, eager servant for all this time without her, or anyone, realizing the truth. Qyburn was far more cunning than anyone suspected.

Brienne fought to keep her voice even. "Cersei was never your true queen. You let her believe that to further your own interests and destroy House Lannister from the inside."

"Stupid Cersei, she never even asked me who my true queen was." Qyburn snorted with disgust. "Her arrogance is so great, she just assumed it was her. What kind of a fool accepts vague words of a man's loyalties, puts that man in positions of power and trusts him unquestioningly, without even asking him to declare himself?"

Brienne stared at him, horror-stuck. She had to force herself not to look at Jon. What kind of man indeed? A king in desperate need of warriors to march with him in the battle against the Army of the Dead. Brienne stared at Podrick, hoping the guilt eating at her didn't show on his face. He stared back at her, eyes wide and cheeks flushed. Quickly, he put his head down, hiding his expression. Podrick's body was rigid as he, along with the dragons, listened to Qyburn.

Brienne turned her attention back to follow the conversation. Fortunately, everyone was focused on Qyburn. They hadn't seen her or Podrick's expressions. She took deep breaths, knowing she had to calm down for the flush to subside from her cheeks.

"Then what, Lord Qyburn?' Jon prodded. "What did you do next?"

"I had to turn the remaining lords in southlands against the Lannisters, to prevent them coming to Cersei's aide. While the Unsullied leader, Grey Worm, is honorable, I ensured no one thought that of the Lord Commander of Cersei's dwindling forces." Qyburn smiled coldly at Jaime, who had slumped in his chair, defeated. "It was simple. The Kingslayer was already a man without honor."

Jon looked directly at Brienne and held her gaze. Her face flushed deeper red but she understood what he wanted. He was reminding her to stay calm while Qyburn so gleefully told his tale. Contradicting him would only make the former Hand defensive and might cause him to withhold valuable information they needed. She nodded to show she understood.

"The Dothraki and the dragon had slaughtered the Lannister forces on the Gold Road," Qyburn reminded them. "I put out whispers to the remaining lords that Ser Jaime had abandoned his men to hide under his sister's skirts. That's why he lived and they died. The lords decided then it was far better to die protecting their own homes and families than to die protecting the treacherous, cowardly lions."

Bronn held up a finger. "Just so everyone knows, Ser Goldenhand here didn't abandon his army. I saved his stupid ass and dragged him back to King's Landing."

"Yes, I'm aware." Daenerys's voice was as cold as ice. "I saw him charge me when I was trying to remove the scorpion bolt from Drogon. You saved him from direct dragonfire. I don't know if that makes your braver or dumber than him."

Bronn shrugged. "Sometimes, in war, you can hardly tell the difference."

"And war is what I needed. The threat of it consumed Cersei." Qyburn continued. "She'd lost her army and the support of the remaining houses. But she still had the Tyrell gold and Euron. He was as cruel and arrogant as she was but he had experience at war. He crowed over how the _Iron Fleet_ had defeated the Targaryen naval force. He was a threat to my control over Cersei. I knew I had to separate her from him and from the Tyrell gold. Buying an army and sending Euron to retrieve it would do the trick."

"So, you were the one who suggested the _Golden Company_," Davos surmised. "They're the most powerful and elite private army in the world, thus the most expensive. That ensured the crown had no gold left and was back in debt to the Iron Bank. Then you, as Cersei's Hand, wrote up a contract that obligated the company to the crown and not to Cersei. You knew their commander would pick up on it and back who they wanted to rule. The _Golden Company_ is powerful enough to be a kingmaker."

The _Golden Company_ was more than a kingmaker, it was the army of the king. The future King Aegon the Sixth Targaryen would walk through the gates of King's Landing a hero, simply by being the leader of the biggest and best private force in the world, even before he claimed the crown of Westeros.

"Yes," Qyburn nodded. "I knew Cersei, in her arrogance, wouldn't understand the significance of a contract to the crown instead of to her. I only needed a few weeks. Once Euron left for Essos, she'd have no support and war coming from all sides. All her enemies would come for the Iron Throne." His gaze shifted to Brienne. "I expected Cersei would be deposed but I didn't think the actual throne would be gone."

Brienne blushed violently and stroked Ardayn and Gallan, the dragons closest her. "I'm sorry –"

"You have nothing to be sorry for," Jon interrupted her. "We don't need an ugly throne. We need Valyrian steel."

Qyburn looked thoughtful. "You posed an interesting theory, my Lady Ser. I often wondered how long infections in the blood can linger on inanimate objects. It would've been interesting to study it on the Iron Throne. Alas, fire, including dragonfire, will destroy residue and purify almost any infected surface." He shrugged. "Perhaps I can experiment on Ser Gregor."

"Why weeks?" Tyrion asked suddenly.

Qyburn wrinkled his nose, as if seeing something repulsive. For a man used to studying the dead and the dying, it was an odd reaction. But then Tyrion was a Lannister, unwanted or not. Tyrion set his teeth and looked to Daenerys. The queen nodded and looked back at Qyburn.

"Lord Qyburn, I understand your hatred for Tywin Lannister," Daenerys said quietly, "but Lord Tyrion is not like his family. As you noted, Tywin was happy to be rid of him. Lord Tyrion has been a wise aide to me. You must overlook his past, as we are doing for you, and understand that he's trying to help the people. Answer his questions."

Qyburn looked from Daenerys to Jon, who nodded gravely. Still, the former maester remained quiet, his lips pressed into a thin line.

"Dorne," Tyrion said, his eyes widening. "Cersei didn't know Dorne was marching because you didn't tell her. You're the reason Dorne is attacking, aren't you? That's why you said war was coming at Cersei from all sides and that's why you only needed a few more weeks. Euron would've been gone for a least a month to bring the _Golden Company_. That's when Dorne will attack, since they're already marching."

"But why?" Daenerys asked. "Why plot with Dorne when they were already my allies?"

Qyburn stared at the youngest Lannister but refused to speak. Tyrion straightened in his seat and color came back into his face. The grief receded from his expression as he began to focus on the matter at hand. Jaime was still listless, barely engaged as he watched his brother with dull eyes. Cersei stared straight ahead, her eyes fathomless and unfocused.

"He said he needed to destroy the Lannister army," Tyrion reminded his queen. "Qyburn started plotting with Dorne before your pact with Ellaria. He didn't know you'd cross the Narrow Sea and destroy Cersei's forces on the Gold Road. He thought he'd have to kill the Crown's army himself. The North and the Vale were already in open rebellion and the Riverland armies are still imprisoned at Riverrun. Dorne was his only option to destroy the army Tywin Lannister built." Tyrion looked back at the ex-maester. "Isn't that right?"

Brienne felt almost light-headed. They had banded together to save all of Westeros from a threat greater than any they'd ever known. They'd even come to the capital to parlay with Cersei, if possible. Qyburn had sat in their meeting, touched proof of the horror coming for them all yet he still plotted to bring another war, create another distraction, for the armies of men. What could drive an intelligent man, a former maester, to kill so indiscriminately?

Qyburn still stayed silent, ignoring Tyrion. Jon turned to glare at the former Hand.

"Lord Qyburn, I gave you _my_ assurance that no harm would come to you for your information," Jon reminded him. "You know I'll honor my word. You believe you're working for a just cause. If so, you must honor your word, too."

Jon stared directly at Qyburn, waiting for his reply. Everyone, except Gregor and the dragons, looked from the King in the North to the cunning ex-Hand. Qyburn had told them much of his master plan but the man clearly had more secrets. The former maester met the king's gaze then finally nodded.

"Yes, your Grace." Qyburn said to Jon. Then he looked at Tyrion. "I reached out to Dorne many months ago. It was a delicate negotiation and required significant time. I had to find contacts, with layers of secrecy to ensure neither side betrayed the other. I needed help, an ally whose web of informants was greater than even my own."

Everyone at the table turned to stare at Varys, except Jaime and Cersei, who remained silent and shell-shocked. Brienne knew the Spider's network of spies and informants stretched across the known world and perhaps ever beyond, but she didn't know he had played against all sides. The former Master of Whispers pressed his hands together and nodded.

"You?" Tyrion gasped. "All this time, you knew and you didn't tell me?"

"Lord Qyburn contacted me through our mutually shared little birds," Varys explained. "I knew he'd tapped into my web of informants and he knew I was aware of it. He did nothing to stop the flow of information, so I allowed it. I knew what he knew. I simply gathered the information he gained and waited for his move. Then I heard what he'd done to House Frey."

"Wait." Jon put up his hand. "You knew what he'd done to House Frey and you kept it from us?"

"I knew he'd supplied the poison used to kill the men of House Frey," Varys admitted. "I didn't know who ordered it since even the Lannisters hated the Freys. I didn't have enough information or reason to approach him. Then he reached out to me to broker a deal with Dorne. That's when I knew he was orchestrating Cersei's downfall. I agreed to assist him. The enemy of my enemy can be a powerful ally."

"Why didn't you tell me, as least?" Tyrion demanded. "You told me when my sister put a price on my head. You told me whenever a dwarf's head was sent to the Red Keep for her to inspect."

Jaime recoiled in horror, his mouth dropping open. He looked from Tyrion to Cersei's frozen expression back to Tyrion. Tyrion was too wrapped up in his indignation to notice his brother's reaction.

"You told me every rotten thing Cersei did, every fool she slept with, every innocent she harmed, but you didn't think to tell me you had an agent in Cersei's court?" Tyrion demanded. "I'm Hand to the Queen and your friend. We're on the same side. Why didn't you tell me?"

"Because I didn't know why he was doing it," Varys explained. "I didn't know if it was a test or he had a personal grudge or supported the Dragon Queen, the Wolf King, the Ironborn King or another party. The wrong move would've gotten me killed."

"Then why help him at all?" Tyrion demanded, color flushing into his face.

Varys's voice tightened. "Because I support the people. Cersei was a terrible regent and an even worse ruler. The people maybe peaceful but they're barely living, in the world Cersei built. The smallfolk are sick, starving and succumbing to her disease. Robert had been a bad king but at least his council ensured the population was fed and protected. Anyone is better than Cersei."

Cersei suddenly snapped out of the shock that had held her immobile. A shudder shook her slim frame and she gasped, limp under Gregor's hand. Beside her, Jaime shook his head, as if to reject hearing about the treacheries he hadn't seen, defeat apparent in his slumped shoulders. Gregor's hold on the twins hadn't wavered.

Qyburn sat down beside Jon, across from Davos. "I knew Lord Varys had connections in Dorne. But it was a slow, delicate process. Everyone we reached out to ignored us. I'd grown desperate to find someone to treaty with me. I couldn't destroy the Lannister army alone. Then Ellaria was captured. She had better contacts. I convinced her to help me in exchange for a merciful death for Tyene."

"Merciful death?" Cersei raised head, light finally coming back into her eyes. "I gave Tyene the kiss of death myself."

The manic light the former queen's eyes was frightening to see. The dragons hissed and puffed, heightening the tension in the room. For the first time, Cersei ignored the threat of the dragons, too lost in her own miseries to register their hostile actions. Everyone else, however, did notice. They all stiffened and eyed the dragons uneasily. Brienne and Podrick leaned closer, prepared to hold them. Daenerys shifted in her chair, facing Brienne, ready to assist if necessary.

Qyburn glanced at the dragons then nodded at Cersei. "I went back an hour later and offered her a merciful death. Ellaria has three other living daughters. I gave her a reason to live for them and ended Tyene's suffering. Ellaria gave me the code they exchanged in all their communications. Once Varys had that, he was able to finally open a channel with a Dornish leader."

"Who is it?" Jon demanded. "Can we reach him?"

"I don't know who he is, your Grace," Varys admitted. "As Lord Qyburn said, it was a delicate negotiation with layers of secrecy. We believe he doesn't want to answer us now. Dorne badly wants the Lannister twins and Gregor Clegane, even more than they want the Iron Throne."

Qyburn looked at Cersei and Jaime. For the first time, his burning hatred for the Lannister siblings was on full display. The manic glaze in his eyes was more controlled than Cersei's but no less intense. Brienne could only stare at him. How could such a soul-deep hatred be so well hidden? Qyburn had been at Cersei's side for months and no one had suspected. How much fortitude did it take to hide such all-consuming loathing?

The ex-maester smiled without warmth but with deep satisfaction. "My contact promised me Cersei's walk of atonement will feel like a stroll through the gardens once they have the incest twins in Dorne."

Cersei shuddered, fear and horror extinguishing the faint light that had come back into her eyes. Jaime kept his head down but his body jerked as if absorbing a physical blow. Brienne thanked the Gods she hadn't been in King's Landing to witness Cersei's walk. Hearing about it had been shocking enough. To degrade a woman like that, strip her of clothes, protection and self-worth, to parade her in the streets, subject her to the pain and horror of physical attack…she had slain men for such acts.

Brienne would've happily executed the High Sparrow and his followers for that, for any woman, including Cersei. They'd claimed to represent the will of the Seven. They'd been liars as well as fanatics. The Mother's mercy alone would have prevented such an act, if they'd truly been devout. Had that horror been the final act that had broken Cersei's mind, separated her from any remaining rational thoughts and actions? What human being could survive such debasement without breaking?

"Dorne is looking forward to having you and your lover-brother as guests, my Queen," Qyburn taunted.

"No!" Brienne protested. This time her cry was audible. "They can't. We need Ser Jaime for the war against the Night King. The Gods demand it. He wouldn't have survived all he's endured if he wasn't under their protection."

Jaime looked up at her, something like hope spurting to life in his dark, haunted eyes. Jon didn't notice. The King in the North's eyes sparked with anger, his mouth flattened into a grim line as he stared at Qyburn. He leaned menacingly into the former Hand of the Queen.

"What else?" Jon demanded.

Qyburn's eyes widened at the king's glare. "Your Grace?"

"What else did Dorne promise you?" Jon elaborated. "If Dorne only wanted Ser Jaime, Cersei and Ser Gregor, only wanted revenge, you're clever enough to arrange it. You could've easily poisoned them and delivered them to Dorne. Destroying the Lannister army, giving King's Landing to Dorne, that's a bigger plot. What did the Dornish promise _you_ for your cooperation?"

Qyburn looked at him for a long moment. "The North."

"What?" Jon recoiled. "They promised to make you the King in the North?"

"No, your Grace," Qyburn assured. "They promised to split Westeros in half."

Jon shook his head. "Why? For what purpose?"

"Dorne wants the Reach and the Stormlands because of the similar climate and rich growing soil. They want the Crownlands to destroy every reminder of the families who'd taken part in the murder of their blood," Qyburn explained. "They agreed to split the Westerlands with the North. Everything south of Lannisport would go to Dorne while Lannisport, Casterly Rock, the northern Westerlands, the Riverlands and the Vale would go to the North."

"Why?" Jon probed. "Why do you want the North to have those lands?"

"To protect my Queen," Qyburn answered simply. "She'll be safe, far from the evils of Tywin Lannister and poison of his cursed seed."

Jon jerked back and stared down the table to Daenerys. Daenerys looked back at him, equally stunned. Beside her, Jorah shifted, grabbing his sword, reacting to a threat he didn't understand. He looked to the calm, alert dragons and relaxed his hold on his sword.

"I thank you for your protection and your loyal service, Lord Qyburn," Daenerys said. "But the North will always be under the rulership of King Jon, no matter what title he takes. Your plan will not work. We must parlay with the Dornish and stop their march."

"How would the Dornish take the capital, once they arrived here?" Tyrion asked thoughtfully. "The walls of King's Landing have never fallen. Cersei invited us into the city then the dragons claimed it. Dorne doesn't have dragons. How did they plan to breach the walls?"

"You forget the wildfire," Qyburn reminded him. "As soon as the Dornish forces were spotted, my little birds would blow open all the gates."

"That's why the largest deposits of wildfire are under the River Gate and the Iron Gate. Those are the main routes Dorne would use to enter the city. They're the gates closest to the Red Keep," Davos pointed out.

The Iron Gate was closest to Flea Bottom, where the poorest and most vulnerable people lived. They were densely packed into narrow, filthy streets that would become death traps when the Dornish armies converged on them.

"Thousands will die in the battle," Brienne protested. "They're innocent."

"Innocents die in war. It's a grim fact," Qyburn acknowledged. "The Dornish will arrive from the south and the sea. The people can leave from the other gates. That's why we plan to destroy all the gates. Cersei would think nothing of locking innocents in the city, and even in the Red Keep, to use as shields."

Everyone, except Jaime, looked at Cersei and looked away, knowing what Qyburn said was true. The former queen had blithely murdered members of her own family. She would have no qualms about killing innocent people to protect herself.

"The Dornish don't want to hurt innocents," Qyburn assured. "They only want the Lannisters, their supporters and Ellaria. I've been adding a special tonic to Ellaria's food to keep her strong. That's why she's still alive. That, and the knowledge that Cersei will soon be in the hands of the Dornish, paying for her crimes."

"Tonic?" Brienne repeated. "You're giving Ellaria the same tonic you used to kill Joffrey and the Freys?"

"No, no," Qyburn assured her. "I blend different tonics for different purposes, some to hurt and some to heal. It's amazing how simple adjustments in herbs can change how tonics affect the body. One tonic can cause horrific, throat melting death while another can damage the body so subtly, it's barely noticeable until the poison accumulates to toxic levels." He looked directly at Cersei. "Until I have to tell her lies to explain why her hair and nails no longer grow, why she lost feeling in her fingers and toes, why her nose is numb and her monthly cycles have stopped."

Everyone, even Jaime, looked at Cersei; from the hair that had barely grown since being cropped to the blunt fingernails and white, cracked fingertips to her still-flat abdomen. Cersei shuddered again, staring at Qyburn disbelievingly.

Jaime glared at Qyburn, banked fury adding light to his eyes. "You poisoned Cersei?"

"Not just her," Qyburn taunted, a smile pulling up the corners of his mouth. "Didn't you notice your sister had started to drink excessively? Who am I asking? Of course, you didn't notice. You don't care what's going on with her as long as she spreads her legs for you."

Jaime flushed and his mouth fell open. Cersei shoved her hands under the table, as if that would hide the evidence. Tyrion groaned softly and shook his head.

Qyburn tilted his head, studying Jaime almost clinically "Tell me, Kingslayer, how often did you share her wine after sharing her bed? Have you noticed you don't desire your sister as much as you used to? Have your response times slowed down? Does it take you longer to recover? Do you recall the last time you shaved or clipped your nails? Olenna warned you the disease of Cersei would kill you, too."

Horrified, Brienne studied Jaime's stunned face. She'd noticed at the parlay he looked tired and older, skin drawn and new grey hairs appearing in the dark blond. But he had stubble on his chin and his fingertips were pink and smooth. The poison hadn't affected him as harshly as it had Cersei. Her beauty had begun to harden, like a cool porcelain mask instead of warm flesh.

"Why?" Jaime demanded, his voice barely above a whisper. "Why did you do this? You already destroyed us. Why did you poison her?"

"To show the world what she truly is," Qyburn answered just as quietly. "She's renowned for her outer beauty, the most beautiful woman in Westeros. But inside, she's so ugly children should scream at the terror of seeing her."

Cersei shuddered while Tyrion sucked in breath on a sharp hiss. Jaime looked from his brother to his sister and back again, finally seeing how diametrically opposite their outer appearances were from their characters. Tyrion had always been shunned by his family for his dwarfism, despite his quick mind and kind heart. Cersei had been lauded for her outer beauty, even though her nature had always been selfish and cruel.

"The only things Cersei truly cares about is her beauty and her power," Qyburn continued. "Her illusion of power is gone and soon, when her fingers and toes blacken, her nose crumbles, her skin cracks and bleeds, her teeth fall out, and her body shrivels and shrinks, then she'll be as corrupted and vile on the outside as she has always been on the inside."

Cersei began to cry, wrapping her arms around her middle, sobbing helplessly. Jaime stared at Qyburn, so stunned he couldn't react. Tyrion was still, almost as shocked as Jaime. Qyburn smiled coldly.

"She's as hateful as you are, Kingslayer," Qyburn said, looking directly at Jaime. "You're her twin in every regard. The only reason you haven't drunk enough poison to truly affect you is because you were off doing her bidding; killing innocents, destroying lives and spreading her disease. You deserve no more mercy than she does."

"Why?" Despair caused Tyrion's voice to crack. "Why did you do this? I understand hating Tywin, even Cersei and Jaime or me, but why kill Tommen and Myrcella? They were innocent of our crimes."

"So was my queen," Qyburn snarled. "So was her child. But Tywin Lannister didn't care about them or anyone else. Like his daughter, he only wanted power. He ordered the slaughter of my queen, her family and hundreds with her, without caring about their innocent children."

An electric charge made everyone, including Gregor and the dragons, stiffen. Jon looked from Qyburn to Daenerys then back to Qyburn.

"Daenerys isn't your queen?" Jon demanded.

"She's a Targaryen," Qyburn's mouth curled. "The daughter of the Mad King, the result of generations of brother with sister, of bad blood. She's as tainted on the inside as Cersei. She just hasn't shown her sickness, yet."

Daenerys jerked in her seat, both shocked and insulted. Missandei covered her queen's hand with her own, squeezing it supportively. Jorah's hand drifted back towards his sword. The dragons puffed, sniffing the air, unsure of where the threat came from.

Qyburn shook his head vehemently. "No, my queen was good and pure. When the Citadel took my chain, I had nothing. My life's work, my dreams, my studies were all gone, taken from me. I had no purpose, no reason to live until she saved me."

He looked at Jon, as if expecting him to understand. Jon frowned and looked to Davos. The knight shrugged, equally mystified. Jon turned back to Qyburn but the ex-maester was no longer focused on him.

Qyburn rose from his chair to glare at the Lannister siblings. "Then Tywin Lannister took my queen and her family. He killed her but not her legacy. Her death birthed my purpose. It's my duty to alleviate suffering. I won't rest until the disease of Tywin Lannister's seed is eradicated from this world."

"Who is your queen?" Jon demanded.

Qyburn whirled to face Jon so suddenly, Jon automatically reached for his sword. But Qyburn didn't attack the King in the North. He pressed his hands together, almost as if he was pleading with Jon.

"Don't you see? My queen is the same as yours, your Grace," Qyburn answered. "You're the White Wolf, the successor to the Young Wolf. You're brother to our fallen queen. Every move, every action I've taken has been to avenge her loss. I've faithfully served the North; I've killed her enemies, I've gathered wealth and allies to protect her, I've opened paths into the southlands to aide her, I destroyed her killer, his instrument and his seed, and I'm a mere month away from the destruction of King's Landing. I did it all for the North, all for her memory."

Jon stared at Qyburn uncomprehendingly. Qyburn suddenly fell to his knees at Jon's feet, bowing his head so the vulnerable nape of his neck was exposed to the King in the North's hand and sword.

"I'm the North's servant, and through her, _your_ servant, your Grace," Qyburn pledged. "I have been so since the day the Young Wolf, King Robb and the true queen, the Queen in the North, Talisa Stark, saved my life at Harrenhal."

It was Jon's turn to be shocked still, his eyes wide. Robb's marriage to Talisa had triggered their deaths at the Red Wedding. She'd been stabbed repeatedly in the abdomen, brutally killing her and her unborn child. Robb had been shot with arrows then stabbed by the traitor, Roose Bolton. The King and Queen of the North, along with Lady Catelyn and the Stark bannermen, had died after the Freys broke guest rights, after Robb broke his agreement to marry a Frey daughter.

Brienne's heart pounded so hard she felt light-headed again. Cersei stared blankly at the prone Qyburn, too overwhelmed to understand but Jaime and Tyrion exchanged grim, comprehending looks. Talisa Stark had barely had time to be queen in the war-torn North, but her kindness had made such an impression on Qyburn, he'd torn down an entire dynasty to honor her memory.

"Explain," Jon snarled through clenched teeth.

Qyburn looked up from his kneeling position. "After the Citadel took my chain, I was without hope, adrift with no purpose. I didn't know what to do. Then I met the Brave Companions. They were traveling north to Harrenhal. My cousin, Ser Jaremy, was at Harrenhal. I knew he would take me in so I accompanied them. My family has always been loyal bannerman of House Tully, Lady Catelyn's family."

Jon nodded, his expression caught between grief and shock. Brienne understood. Lady Catelyn had given Brienne a true purpose and genuine acceptance for the first time in her life. She knew Jon hadn't had a good relationship with Lady Catelyn but he'd loved his brother and respected the Stark bannermen. Their deaths must have torn him apart.

"Then Ser Gregor and his men stormed Harrenhal," Qyburn continued. "For a time, we were all prisoners. Tywin Lannister called in his bannermen. Ser Gregor and his men put all the prisoners to the sword. That's what King Robb and Queen Talisa found when the entered Harrenhal. Two hundred Northmen slaughtered on Tywin's orders."

Tywin had pulled his men to defend King's Landing, and his family, from Stannis Baratheon's assault. He'd done so to protect his position, his daughter, his grandsons and their hold on the Iron Throne. Little did Tywin know, pulling his men from Harrenhal would trigger the collapse of the Lannister dynasty.

"But you didn't die," Jon pointed out. "You survived the massacre."

"Only by the mercy of our true queen," Qyburn agreed. "She nursed me back to health with her own hands. She told me I was lucky to be alive. She insisted that a man like me, with my intelligence and knowledge of the body and medicine, had a great purpose. I didn't believe her. Then she was murdered by the turncoat Freys, on the order of the Lannisters."

He snarled out their name, as if 'Lannister' was the filthiest, most degrading word he could think to utter. Slowly Qyburn rose, rage and vengeance crackling in the air around him, making the fine hairs on his arms stand straight out. The dragons shifted, alert and watchful, responding to the energy spike. Qyburn looked hard at Jaime and Cersei.

"Suddenly, I knew my purpose," Qyburn hissed. "I was to be her hand of justice. I'd use my knowledge of men and medicine to destroy House Lannister. I remained at Harrenhal, planning my vengeance. The Gods favor the righteous. The Kingslayer fell into my lap and with him, the key to cleansing the world of the disease-ridden Lannisters."

Jaime and Tyrion again exchanged grim glances. Like Cersei, Tywin hadn't thought of how his actions affected others when he'd made his decisions. He'd never expected anyone to be able to stand up to his cruelty and brute strength. It hadn't occurred to him his arrogance and vanity would create a weapon, his own daughter, to be used against him, to destroy his whole house.

Qyburn turned back to Jon. "Do you know what the Kingslayer said to the traitor Roose Bolton before we left Harrenhal, your Grace?"

Jon shook his head. Brienne frowned, trying to think back. Her memories of that time were a blur of images; an ugly pink dress, Roose Bolton's cold sneer, Locke's taunts, the enormous bear, the fear, the despair, the desperation to leave once they'd been pulled from the bear pit. Judging from the outraged disgust on Qyburn's face, he remembered exactly what Jaime had said.

Qyburn's breath came out in harsh pants as his outrage grew. "He said 'the Lannisters send their regards.' According to my little birds, the traitor Bolton passed on those regards when he, like the cowardly Kingslayer, _murdered his king_." He turned to Jaime. "I returned those regards, Jaime Lannister, with interest. You took our sons, I took your sons. You took our daughter, I took your daughter. You took the seeds of our future, I crushed yours and the rest of your house for our suffering."

"No!" Jaime cried. "Why didn't you take me? When you had me at Harrenhal. Why didn't you just take me? I would've gladly died for my family."

"Because your whole family is infected with tainted blood," Qyburn spat out. "The only way to stop an infection is to cut it all out. You understand, don't you, Kingslayer? You remember how you screamed when I cut the corruption from your wrist?" Qyburn glared viciously at Jaime. "It's the only way to remove the rot."

"Not every Lannister is rotten," Brienne protested. "Lord Tyrion convinced Queen Daenerys not to take King's Landing with fire and blood. He knew her dragons would kill thousands if she attacked the city. Ser Jaime ended the siege at Riverrun peacefully, with few casualties. Would they have saved the people of King's Landing, would they have saved the soldiers at Riverrun, would they have saved _me_ if they were truly rotten?"

Qyburn wasn't interested in her protests. He glared at the Lannister siblings, his hands clenched to control his rage.

"The Lannister thought they were untouchable," he snarled. "They thought they could ravage the North without consequence. But they made a fatal mistake. They didn't kill all the eagles."

"Eagles?" Jon repeated.

"The Citadel made me give up my family name. But the Citadel gave _me_ up and I've reclaimed my heritage." Qyburn stood tall, strong and proud. "I'm from House Mallister of Seaguard. My cousin was Ser Jaremy Mallister. He was murdered at Harrenhal. We're bannermen of House Tully, loyal to the North for generations."

Brienne swayed with the force of her shock. House Mallister, her mother's house, the house of the silver eagles who had hidden a secret dragon. Her heart twisted. Had Qyburn known Allyna? Had they played together as children, perhaps dreamed together of their futures? Had Qyburn known Allyna was the daughter of the Mad King, sister to the queen he'd described as also being of tainted blood?

"The lions caused their own downfall." The rage faded from Qyburn's voice, replaced by calm satisfaction. "You see, we eagles soar above the rest. Once we target our prey, nothing can stop us from taking it."

_A shriek pierced the air. An eagle appeared out of the shadow of the dragon, its silver feathers brilliant in the moonlight, its wingspan enormous and its claws razor sharp. It was headed straight for the lion._

Brienne remembered her dream in dragon's cave, the night the five were born. She'd dreamt of floating in the waters of Tarth, of seeing the wolf and the dragon, the eagle and the lion. As in her dream, she was awash in waves of turbulent emotions, unable to move, unable to reach Jaime.

"They should have ripped us out, root and stem," Qyburn continued.

Jon's gaze slammed into Brienne's, his eyes mirroring her tumultuous shock. Marrying Talisa Maegyr had caused King Robb's downfall, had almost led to the fall of House Stark. It was only Jon and Sansa's iron wills, their combined efforts, that had kept their house from collapsing, had reclaimed Winterfell, had made Jon King in the North and had led to Arya and Bran's return. The wolves were regathering.

_When the snow falls and the white winds blow, the lone wolf dies but the pack survives_.

Robb had failed in his quest to free the North of the Lannisters' domination. His wife and child had died with him but his queen's mercy had birthed his revenge. Talisa had saved a powerful predator, one so quick and cunning, it had landed blow after blood-soaked blow against the lion, without the great beast realizing the attacks had come from within.

Qyburn's eyes were as cold as a northern winter. "Leave one eagle alive and the lions are never safe."

_The eagle landed on the lion's back, its claws digging in, drawing rivulets of blood from the maimed beast. The lion reared up on its back legs but the eagle's grip was too strong. The lion roared as the eagle's beak ripped into its head. The lion shook its upper body, trying to dislodge the eagle. The lion's blood covered the eagle, darkening the silver feathers until they shone almost blue in the moonlight._

Brienne wanted to cry out but knew there was nothing she could do. Qyburn had already taken his revenge. He had killed most of the Lannisters, defiled their name, destroyed their house and dispersed their wealth. He'd used his knowledge of men and medicine to avenge his fallen king and queen, to avenge the North.

Qyburn's smile was as cold as ice. "Winter has come for House Lannister."

_Winter is coming._

The motto of House Stark, a reminder that winter brought death and destruction, a warning of harsher times yet to come. Now death and destruction had come for House Lannister. The snows hadn't yet fallen on King's Landing but the Lannisters had. They'd fallen without even knowing how they'd stumbled. Qyburn had done what Robb Stark hadn't lived to do. He'd brought House Lannister to the brink of extinction.

Brienne tried to move but her body was heavy, as if she was fighting through turbulent waters. She could only watch as her cave dream became a terrible reality. Under the silent gaze of the wolf and the dragon, the eagle dealt a death blow to the wounded lion. Qyburn's final words chilled her blood but were, in the end, inevitable.

"The North remembers."

**Author's Note:**

Please view this Youtube video for a refresher on Ser Jaremy and the birth of the queen's justice. Pay special attention to what happens after the line "…she robbed them of their justice." The clip also contains another clue to the battle against the Army of the Dead, which I won't reveal just yet.

www . youtube watch ? v = YFBdUliDGCA (no spaces)

If the link doesn't work, the title is "Robb & Talisa Stark Saves Qyburn."

Please leave me your thoughts and reactions to this chapter. Did you understand Qyburn's motivation? Do you see how he'll help his king in the battle against the Army of the Dead?


	26. Threat Keeper

Chapter 26: Threat Keeper

Brienne dreamed she was in the Throne Room of the Red Keep. The Iron Throne had been partially destroyed with only the Valyrian steel swords still standing. She looked up and saw the young dragons circling above the throne, squawking and hissing at the hulking mass. She looked down and saw she was fully dressed in black armor, including metal gloves, made of Valyrian steel. The dragons fired on the throne. She pulled out a sword with her covered hands, the sharp weapon unable to hurt her through the nearly indestructible armor.

Soon the air filled with thick, black smoke. The grey wolf came into the room and settled on the floor, quiet and watchful. She pulled our sword after sword, so fast the blades struck and sparked against each other. Suddenly she stopped and looked back at the growing pile of Valyrian steel blades. Something glowed in their midst. She reached down and pulled out a bolt of lightning. It crackled with life and energy but didn't hurt her. She looked to the wolf.

"I am Valyrian steel," Brienne announced.

The wolf continued to regard her steadily. She heard a whimper and turned to see the maimed lion with the blood-soaked eagle still riding its back. She was horrified to see the eagle's hind claws had dug so deeply into the lion they could no longer be seen. Its wings covered down to the lion's front paw and maimed limb. The eagle's beak gouged deeply into the lion's head. It was almost as if the two animals were merging into one.

She tried to go to the lion but the lightning bolt suddenly became so heavy its weight dragged her arm to the ground. She tried desperately but couldn't release the lightning bolt. The thick black smoke covered the lion and the eagle, hiding them from her view. The lion roared and the eagle cried. Their fierce thrashing thinned the smoke around them enough for her to see they were engaged in a death match.

"Jaime!" she cried, knowing the lion would die if she didn't reach him. "Jaime!"

"Brienne, wake up!" Daenerys called sharply.

Brienne jerked awake and looked around. Moonlight spilled in through the open curtains, filling the room with pale illumination. Daenerys and the dragons were gathered around her, watching her with concern. Daenerys still had her hand on Brienne's arm. Brienne sat up. Ardayn and Serdun went behind her to help her into a sitting position while the others gathered close.

"What happened?' Brienne blinked rapidly, acclimating herself to her surroundings.

She wasn't in the throne room, harvesting swords. That task had already been completed. No, her mind was telling her something important, as it had the last time she'd dreamt of the lion and the eagle. She looked around Daenerys's sitting room, where the dragons had made themselves so comfortable, nesting into the cushions, the queen had seen no point in moving them back to Brienne's room.

Daenerys left her to go to the hall door. The queen wore a light robe and held a single lit taper in her hand. Light spilled in from the opening, forcing Brienne to blink to adjust to the brightness. She scrambled to her feet and smoothed down her unruly hair. Daenerys had a brief conversation with the guard. She returned a moment later.

"You were restless, which woke the dragons who, in turn, woke me." The queen grimaced. "My brother and I were often on the run while I was growing up, staying ahead of Robert's assassins. I learned to be a light sleeper."

The dragons gathered around them, squawking and preening, demanding attention. She and Daenerys stroked and hugged them until the five had their fill of attention. Ardayn and Serdun pulled away first, eager to return to their nests now that Brienne was calm. Gallan waited patiently for Daenerys to let go before turning away. Catren and Allwyn, as always, lingered until the women laughed and urged them back to their beds.

"I'm sorry I woke you." Brienne shook her head, as if to clear it. "I had a disturbing dream."

"It's understandable, after the day we've had," Daenerys commiserated. "Lord Qyburn's actions, his calmness at carrying them out, was both impressive and terrifying."

Brienne shook her head again. "The amount of cunning and willpower it had taken to do that, to hide his true nature so completely, I can't even imagine it."

"That's because you are a warrior, Brienne, a true knight of the Seven Kingdoms." Daenerys smiled at her warmly. "You attack your enemy directly and destroy them with a clean cut. But, sometimes, cunning is required. It's extraordinary what he did. Qyburn manipulated Cersei into destroying an empire."

Qyburn had understood the darkness in Cersei's character and her thirst for power. He'd used that thirst for his own benefit, directing her like a weapon against his foes. Cersei had been so drunk on her false control she hadn't even noticed when that power had begun to hurt her, too. She'd lost her children, her allies and even her freedom to the Faith Militants as a result of her own reckless decisions. As her brother, Tyrion, had drunk wine until it became a sickness, Cersei had imbibed false power. Quburn's understanding of human nature had turned Cersei's ambition into a corruption, overwhelming her and destroying her, even before he dosed her with actual poison.

Brienne shivered. "I suppose we should be grateful Qyburn is on our side. I'd hate to have that mind turned against me."

Daenerys nodded in agreement. Knocking on the hall door interrupted them before she could respond.

"Enter!" the queen called.

The door was opened by a bloodrider but a quaking maid filled the doorway. The tray in her hands shook so badly they could hear the cups and saucers clatter. Fortunately, Missandei came up behind the terrified girl and took the tray from her. Missandei said something calming that made the girl relax visibly. She dropped a quick curtsy and hurried away.

"What happened, my queen?' Missandei asked, bringing the tray to the center table. She waited for the door to shut before she hurried to Daenerys and took her hands. "Are you well, Dany? Aggo said you were disturbed."

"By me," Brienne confessed as she lit candles from the fat taper still glowing near the door. "I had a bad dream, which woke everyone."

"I used to have terrible dreams when I first joined Dany," Missandei confided. She was also dressed in a wrapper over her bed gown. "I dreamt I hadn't been freed and was still under my master's control. Then I'd wake up and be unable to sleep for the rest of the night."

Daenerys used their joined hands to bring Missandei closer. She looked directly into the other woman's eyes, her expression fierce. Missandei smiled warmly but the queen's expression didn't soften.

"You will never again be under a master's control," Daenerys vowed. "The day will come, when my conquest is complete, when no man will ever own another."

Brienne stared at the young queen, unease shivering down her spine. They hadn't yet formulated a battle plan to defeat the Army of the Dead, but Daenerys was already planning for her future conquests. Even after losing a dragon to the Night King, she still didn't understand the enormity of the enemy they faced.

"Dany often has very disturbing, prophetic dreams." Missandei released Daenerys and reached for the tray, unconcerned by her queen's ambitious plans. "Tell us about your dream, Brienne."

The dragons settled back into the cushions, more interested in returning to their own dreams than listening to Brienne's. Daenerys helped Brienne bring the candles to the table while Missandei poured tea. It was a bizarre scene, almost a dream itself. The Queen of Westeros, her non-blood sister and her bastard niece, surrounded by dragons, guards, treachery and intrigue. Yet here they gathered, three utterly different women, sharing tea and confidences in the darkest night, with an easy camaraderie Brienne wouldn't have understood even a month earlier.

"I think my dream was prophetic, too," Brienne admitted. "It was a continuation of a dream that came true."

"Came true?" Daenerys repeated. "What happened?"

Brienne told them about her dream in Drogon's cave, before the birth of the five. "It was just like I dreamt it. I tried to reach the lion but I couldn't swim through the waves. The dragon and wolf watched from above as the eagle bloodied the lion. I saw it but I didn't understand it. If only I'd been smarter, understood it sooner."

"Then what?" Daenerys prompted. "Could you have changed things? Do you think anything you said or did would have saved Ser Jaime from himself? He was too wrapped up in his sister to see reason. How would you have swayed Lord Qyburn away from this thirst for revenge? He almost died at the Lannisters' hands."

Brienne pressed her lips together and nodded. Her head understood but her heart still ached. Jamie and Tyrion had been so devastated by Qyburn's revelations, they'd taken Cersei and disappeared for the rest of the day. She knew they needed to be together, to absorb and process their own guilt and blame for the fall of their house. At least, Jamie and Tyrion were processing. Cersei was still hollow-eyed and vacant, so shocked she'd even accepted Tyrion's guiding hand without protest.

"All of this was set into motion long ago, Brienne," Missandei said gently. "By men and their poor decisions. You had no control over them. You cannot take any blame, simply because of a dream. Dreams are like prophecies. They can have many meanings."

"But I dreamt of a dragon and a wolf watching from above, Queen Daenerys and King Jon. They were the only logical choices," Brienne argued. "Ser Jaime was the only lion I truly knew and I dreamed of an _eagle_. This was before I knew Lord Qyburn was a Mallister."

"I can think of another meaning," Missandei said, "that fits just a well but doesn't require you to blame yourself for circumstances beyond your control."

Brienne's eyes widened. "Really?"

"You fought real lions in the Disputed Lands before you entered Drogon's cave," Missandei reminded her. "_You_ were the eagle who cut off a lion's paw and sliced into another lion's head. The dragon was Drogon, who'd you'd just met and the wolf was Lady Arya, who was mournful away from her family. She was the wolf you went to Essos to find. You were at a distance in your dream, watching yourself doing what was necessary, to bring yourself to the place where you brought your own dragons into the world."

"But I'm not truly an eagle," Brienne argued. "My mother was a bastard Targaryen, not a real Mallister."

"I'm not Dany's blood, but I wear the Targaryen sigil and carry the sister blade to her sword," Massandei pointed out. "The queen has claimed me as her sister. Who will deny it?"

"I first became a Khaleesi by marriage," Daenerys added. "My blood hadn't changed but my allegiance had. You knew you mother was a Mallister. When you soared above the rest, did it matter if you did so as an eagle or a dragon? The point is, you soared, you fought and you won. Do not diminish your accomplishments, Brienne."

"I'm not," Brienne insisted. "I'm trying to understand my dream. Tonight's dream was as confusing as the first one."

Confusing and perhaps just as important. Her previous dream had warned her of the fall of House Lannister, of the predator who would destroy it. She might not have been able to stop Cersei but she could have possibly saved Jaime from some pain. She'd seen him at Riverrun, while Tommen was still alive. Maybe she could have saved Tommen and, with him, Margaery. Jaime would have still had one child and perhaps even be looking forward to grandchildren. But she hadn't understood, hadn't warned him and Jaime's entire world had been destroyed.

"Tell us about it," Missandei encouraged, bringing Brienne out of her troubled thoughts.

Brienne repeated her dream as the other two sipped tea. The dragons had all fallen back to sleep, now that Brienne was no longer disturbed. Catren and Gallan shared a sofa, the cushions torn to make a nest. Serdun and Ardayn had the sofa across from them, but had chosen to make separate nests, next to each other, but with space between them. Allwyn was burrowed into Brienne's bedding, preferring to sleep with Brienne than to nest with the others.

"The first part of your dream has already occurred," Missandei said. "You already pulled out the Valyrian steel swords. What's interesting is you were wearing an entire suit of Valyrian steel armor and you held lightning in your hand."

Brienne went rigid. Kinvara's prophecy rushed into her mind.

_I see you floating between the sun and a star, running with wolves and lions, soaring with dragons and eagles, parting the blackest clouds and holding lightning in your hand._

"What?" Daenerys demanded, seeing her sudden shock. "Brienne?"

"The prophecy the Red Priestess gave me," Brienne whispered. "She said I would part the blackest clouds and hold lightning in my hand."

"The black smoke caused by the burning throne was the darkest I've ever seen," Missandei agreed. "But you only handled Valyrian steel, not lightning."

"Perhaps it was a burning sword that had a jagged shape, like a bolt of lightning?" Daenerys suggested. "It's possible one of the weapons your removed in the poor lighting struck a cord within you, as _Dragon's Eye_ did for me. We should check the swords as they come back from the smith and find it for you."

"But I have my own sword." Brienne nodded to _Oathkeeper_ resting beside Allwyn. "Ser Jaime gave it to me."

"Or perhaps your dream was a reminder of your duty," Missandei suggested gently. "The bolt held you back from the lion. Your true loyalty is to your kin, the dragons, and not to Ser Jaime. I know his pain causes you grief, but you cannot lose sight of your own goals because of him."

"I couldn't be the eagle in my dream," Brienne insisted. "The silver eagle was embedded so deeply into the lion, they were almost merging into one."

"Merging?" Daenerys raised her expressive eyebrows. "Are you sure they were fighting if they were merging?"

Missandei pressed her fingers to her lips but couldn't suppress her giggle. Brienne flushed and scowled at the same time. There was a time when such a comment would've puzzled her. But she'd spent enough time with Renly's men, trampling through the Riverlands with Jaime and in Essos with Griff to understand their suggestive remarks. But the brutal battle she'd dreamt had nothing to do with physical intimacy.

"Yes, I'm sure they were fighting," she said with great patience. "The eagle was soaked in the lion's blood and the lion was in pain. I wanted to go to the lion because I knew it would die if I didn't separate it from the eagle."

"Hmm," Daenerys murmured.

Her expression was calm but her eyes sparkled with mischief. It was clear from the smile she exchanged with Missandei that the queen liked her own interpretation better. Brienne scowled at them again. Though she enjoyed the easy friendship the three had developed, she wasn't used to their good-natured mockery. Daenerys reached out and patted her hand.

"Let's bring this up in the morning council meeting," the queen suggested. "At least we should discuss your dream against the Red Priestess's prophecy. Perhaps there's something significant about one of the swords."

"You many want to leave out the part about the eagle merging with the lion." Missandei pressed her lips together but the corners still curled up.

"Yes," Daenerys agreed. "The mental image might confuse some. How do lions and eagles mate, anyway?"

Brienne shut her eyes and shook her head. "You two are no help," she grumbled.

Daenerys held her hand, Missandei took the other. Their smiles were as warm as their touch. They enjoyed teasing her but there was no malice in their words or their actions. It was the gentle mocking of those who knew their words wouldn't be misconstrued, who blunted their jabs so they pricked but didn't wound.

"True," the queen agreed. "But you must admit, we are great fun."

Despite her annoyance, Brienne privately agreed. A year ago, this would have been beyond her imagination. That she'd be in King's Landing, an acknowledged and honored kin to the queen, sharing tea and midnight conversations with her, still baffled her. That she'd be a warrior of the Gods, surrounded by the fierce, protective dragons they'd gifted her, was more than she'd ever hoped for.

She'd prayed for a just king and a purposeful life. The Gods had given her so much more. They had given her respect, honor and happiness. A happiness so fragile, she almost feared the day her king came to claim what was his; kingship of the Seven Kingdoms.

And her.

Brienne entered the morning council meeting with trepidation. A part of her wished Jaime would come so she could assure herself he was well. The other part wanted him to stay away, unsure how she'd cope with the devastation in his eyes. Tyrion, Bronn, Podrick and Theon were already gathered at the table. A woman with dark brown hair and visible bruises sat beside Theon.

"Good morning." Brienne addressed the room but studied Tyrion.

The youngest lion looked tired and drawn, with dark circles under his eyes. He'd clearly had a difficult night. Still, he smiled and returned her greeting. Catren and Allwyn went to Podrick while Gallan flew to investigate the new woman. Serdun and Ardayn stayed at Brienne's side.

Theon rose and nodded to the woman. "Lady Ser Brienne, this is my sister, Yara."

Yara nodded stiffly, her gaze on Gallan. The blue dragon squawked and ruffled its feathers. Theon turned to the dragon and smiled.

"Queen Yara, this is Gallan," Theon introduced dutifully. "The calmest of Lady Ser Brienne's dragons."

Catren and Allwyn left Podrick to also meet the Queen of the Iron Islands. Yara's eyes widened but the rest of her remained still as the dragons sniffed around her.

"The brown dragon is Catren, their leader," Theon continued. "The silver-grey dragon is Allwyn, their second in command." He nodded to Ardayn and Serdun, still beside Brienne. "The green dragon is Serdun and the darker grey dragon is Ardayn. They are Lady Ser Brienne's rear guard."

"Welcome, Queen Yara," Brienne greeted, moving to sit beside Bronn. "I'm happy to see you're well enough to join us."

"Thank you." Yara's voice was rough and low, as if she hadn't used it much recently. Or perhaps it was because she barely moved her lips while she spoke. "I hear you and your dragons were an important part of my rescue. I thank you."

Brienne was about to respond when Jon appeared in the doorway, followed by Davos, Sandor and Qyburn. Everyone rose from their seats except Yara, who was still staring at the dragons. Jon smiled at seeing her.

"Queen Yara, it's good to see you looking better," he greeted her. His smile deepened. "Don't worry about the dragons. They're only a threat to those who are hostile to Brienne."

Yara nodded stiffly. She didn't relax until Gallan, Allwyn and Catren flew off to their favorite spot. They stretched out their wings and basked in the early morning sun. Ardayn and Serdun looked over but remained stubbornly at Brienne's side.

"Sōvegon Ardayn, Serdun," Brienne urged. "There's no threat to me here."

Ardayn and Serdun looked between Brienne and the three other dragons sunning themselves in the corner. They rose and flew to join them just as Daenerys, Missandei, Jorah and Varys came into the room. Everyone exchanged polite greetings while the newcomers settled into their seats. Daenerys smiled warmly at Yara.

"I'm happy to see you so well, Queen Yara," she greeted. Her smile faded as she glanced around the table. "Lord Tyrion, will your brother be joining us this morning?"

"Yes, he will," Jaime answered for himself from the doorway.

He was as drawn and dark-eyed as Tyrion but there was a new resilience in his posture. His shoulders were thrown back and his head held high. Brienne saw Tyrion relax visibly as Jaime came to join them. Jaime glared almost defiantly at Qyburn as he passed the ex-maester's chair. Qyburn returned his glance calmly, a faint smile tugging at the corners of his mouth.

"Where is Ser Gregor?" Daenerys asked.

"He's in my chambers, your Grace," Qyburn explained. "He'll remain there until I order him to move."

"Are you sure of that?" Jon asked.

"Yes, my King," Qyburn assured him. "Ser Gregor has no free will. He only does as I order him to do." He glanced at Jaime and smiled viciously. "Rather like the Kingslayer but Ser Gregor listens to me while Ser Jaime takes his commands from Cersei."

Jaime's face tightened and he reached for _Widow's Wail_. Tyrion put his hand on his brother's arm. Jaime looked down as his brother then hiss out air on a deep breath. He relaxed and released the sword but his glare didn't leave Qyburn.

"Speaking of which, where is Cersei?" Daenerys asked, directing everyone's attention away from the tense confrontation.

"Confined to her chambers," Jamie answered. "The Queensguard are watching her. She had a difficult night."

"Shall I prepare something to calm her?" Qyburn offered, venom in his voice.

Jaime glare darkened. His position beside Tyrion, across and several seats up from Qyburn, put physical distance between the two men but their loathing was evident. The dragons growled but remained in their sunny corner.

"You've done more than enough," Jaime spat. "She was in hysterics for most of the night."

"So fortunate you were with her to provide your unique brand of brotherly love." Qyburn smirked. "I'm sure it gave her great comfort."

Again, Jaime reached for his sword. Qyburn watched with calm disinterest. Tyrion patted his brother's arm. Bronn leaned back, as if clearing Jaime's path. Brienne gasped softly at Qyburn's undisguised malice. Podrick, who sat beside her, gave her a sympathetic smile.

"Stop it!" Jon slammed his fist on the table,

Everyone jerked and looked to the king. The dragons sit up and squawked. Brienne and Podrick turned to them. They hadn't left their sunny corner, but they were playing attention to Jon. They focused on the King in the North with bright, attentive eyes.

"Enough!" Jon snarled, harshly enough that Brienne turned back to face him. "We all have more than enough bad blood amongst us. We've all done terrible things, have killed and harmed each other's kin. We must put our personal grievances aside to focus on the greater good. If you can't work with each other, and us, leave now."

He waited but neither Jaime or Qyburn rose. Jon nodded, satisfied.

"We need to focus on the larger threat facing us and save our personal differences until after the war. I'd like to begin by welcoming Queen Yara." Jon nodded to the Ironborn queen. "Second, where are we will the repairs on the Valyrian steel weapons?"

"I checked with Gendry last night, your Grace," Davos reported. "He's making good progress but the work is delicate and takes time. I suggest we bring more smiths to assist him."

"Agreed," Jon said then paused to look across to Daenerys. She smiled and nodded. He turned back to Davos. "Make sure they're men Gendry knows and trusts. You'll need to assign more guards. We cannot allow the weapons to be stolen."

Davos nodded.

"Speaking of Valyrian steel," Daenerys spoke, "Brienne had a dream about them that may relate to the prophecy given to her by the Red Priestess."

"Melisandre," Davos growled, his voice coated with disgust.

"No, Kinvara, the other Red Priestess," Brienne corrected. "She said 'I see you floating between the sun and a star, running with wolves and lions, soaring with dragons and eagles, parting the blackest clouds and holding lightning in your hand.' This was when Podrick and I first went to Tyrosh, before the birth of the young dragons."

"Yes." Podrick nodded in agreement. "First she said my Lady was the light in the darkness, then she told us about the prophecy."

"Eagles," Tyrion repeated. "Her prophecy seems right but she didn't say much we didn't already know. The sigil of House Tarth is the sun and a star. You're certainly surrounded by wolves, lions and dragons. The only surprise was that she knew about the eagles."

"It's the other part that relates to Lady Ser Brienne's dream," Missandei pointed out. "Where she parts the darkest clouds and holds lightning in her hand. That was also in her dream."

Everyone turned to look at Brienne. She explained her dream, omitting the part about the lion and the eagle but careful to explain about the armor and the bolt of lightning. She glanced at Daenerys and Missandei but their expressions were calm and focused with no hint of the teasing they'd subjected her to during the previous night.

While everyone else's expressions remained calm, Yara's became grim. She drew her breath in on a harsh gasp. Everyone turned to look at the Ironborn queen.

"What did the armor look like?" Yara leaned forward, her eyes narrowing. "How did you know it was Valyrian steel?"

Brienne shook her head. "I don't know. It was a dream. I just knew, in the dream, what it was."

"What did it look like?' Yara repeated.

"It was black," Brienne frowned, "with scales, like on the dragons. Why?"

Yara's eyes widened and she leaned back in her seat. Theon looked at her with concern. The concern froze into shock at his sister's announcement.

"Because it's real," Yara announced.

A charge went through the room. Everyone sat straighter in their seats. The dragons squawked and looked around, searching for the threat that had sent the shockwave through the room.

"What? You've seen Valyrian steel armor?" Jon asked. "Where?"

"It's on board the _Silence_, our uncle's ship." Yara looked at Daenerys. "As you know, his ultimate goal was to take your dragons and use them to rule the world. He talked a great deal about his plans for conquest while I was on his ship."

Yara grimaced. Beside her, Theon clenched his hands into fists and hung his head, but said nothing. Yara took a deep breath and continued.

"He wanted to be a dragonrider. He talked often about riding the dragons to victory." She paused when Daenerys snorted with disgust. "He thought the Valyrian steel armor would protect him from the dragons."

"Then he was a fool," Jorah said. "Valyrian steel may have a hotter melting point but it still heats. He'd be cooked alive inside that armor if a dragon fired on him."

Jon started at that, his hands curled into fists. Jorah flushed. Clearly, he knew Jon's grandfather had been burned alive in his armor at the orders of the Mad King.

"I'm sorry, your Grace," Jorah apologized. "I didn't mean to bring up unpleasant memories."

Jon unclenched his fist. "It's fine, Ser Jorah. We can't change the past. We're here to discuss the tools we can take into battle against the Army of the Dead. The armor will be an important tool but not against dragons."

"The only real threat to the dragons are ballistas." Daenerys looked pointedly at Qyburn. "Like the one that wounded Drogon."

Brienne also looked at Qyburn. "You built those scorpions, didn't you?"

"They were built to my specifications, my Lady _Ser_." Qyburn smiled as he emphasized her new title. "I created them on Cersei's orders. The big dragon destroyed the ones I'd had built."

If the scorpions were capable of wounding Drogon, they would be able to kill the five younger dragons. Their scales were still developing and hadn't become the hard armor Drogon and Rhaegal enjoyed. Brienne clenched her fists, experiencing the same instinctive desire to grab her sword Jaime must have felt. The need to protect her dragons, no matter how futile a sword would be against a ballista, ignored logic and reason. The dragons straightened, sensing her distress, but didn't hiss or come to her side. They looked to the table but remained calm in the face of the man who had built a weapon to attack dragons.

"Are you building more?" Brienne demanded.

"Not at this time," Qyburn assured her.

"Can you build more?" Jon asked.

"Your Grace!" Brienne gasped.

Down at the end of the table, Daenerys also drew in her breath with an audible hiss. Jon looked from her to Brienne and raised his hands.

"We still have to contend with Viserion," he reminded them gently.

"I can have more built, your Grace," Qyburn confirmed. "But you should know scorpions have significant limitations."

"What limitations?" Daenerys demanded. "Can we use them to protect the other dragons?"

Qyburn nodded. "Yes, you can use their weaknesses to your advantage. Their first limitation is that they must be worked by a man. A ballista without a man to arm and shoot it is useless."

He paused and waited for his students to nod their understanding. They did. Qyburn rubbed his hands and squared his shoulders, apparently pleased to deliver another lecture.

"Their second limitation is the man himself," Qyburn continued. "He can only aim and shoot at what he can see. He cannot shoot at night, or through fog, smoke or cloud cover."

"Or fire," Jorah added. "If we shoot wildfire arrows at the ballistas then ignite them, the dragons could fly through the cover of fire and destroy any scorpions the wildfire didn't blow up."

Qyburn nodded enthusiastically, warming to his topic. "Excellent deduction, Ser –?"

"Ser Jorah Mormont," Jorah supplied.

The former maester studied him thoughtfully. "Of House Mormont?"

"Aye, once up a time," Jorah admitted. "Now, I follow my Khaleesi, Queen Daenerys."

Qyburn nodded then returned to his lesson. "The third limitation of the scorpions are the gears. They can only move in and to a maximum angle."

"Aye," Bronn agreed. "I found that out the hard way. They can't shoot up or down. They can only shoot on an angle."

"An angle?" Missandei asked. "What does that mean?"

"An angle is the range of motion for an object," Qyburn explained. "This is the range of motion for a scorpion."

He held his right arm straight out at the shoulder. Then he outstretched his left arm so it touched his ear, forming a seventy-degree angle.

"Your right arm is even with the floor," Daenerys noted. "A dragon wouldn't fly so low to the ground."

"But he could fly below the scorpion if it's mounted on a wall, Khaleesi," Jorah explained. "The ballista can't shoot down."

"That means a ballista on a ship can be defeated just as easily," Theon noted. "The dragons can swim. They can attack a ship from underneath. The scorpions won't work, even if the sailors see the dragon in the water."

"A scorpion can't shoot straight up, either," Brienne pointed out. "That means a dragon can come straight down and destroy the ballista."

"Very good." Qyburn actually clapped his hands as he smiled at her.

"That's all good information but we don't plan to attack our own dragons. We need to place the ballistas at every Night's Watch castle," Jon explained. "We'll tip them with dragonglass bolts. That will tell us in a single strike if dragonglass is effective against Viserion."

Daenerys drew in her breath sharply, her face flushed, clearly distressed by the plan to attack her dragon, even though it was already dead. Jon stopped speaking to look at her with concern. Missandei caught her queen's hand and squeezed it supportively. Daenerys smiled wanly and nodded to Jon.

"The scorpions are the only weapon we have to use against dragons," Jon finished apologetically.

"No, they aren't," Yara countered quietly.

Again, every turned to stare at her. She sat calm and still, her face covered in yellowing bruises but her eyes clear and focused.

"What do you mean?" Jon demanded.

"There's another weapon," Yara met his gaze. "My uncle boasted of it and even showed it to me. It's a horn."

"A horn?" Daenerys repeated. "What do you mean?"

"It's the horn from a dragon, even bigger than your biggest dragon," Yara explained. "He had his men blow into it on several occasions." She shuddered visibly. "It made a sound like the screams of the dead. My whole body felt like it was on fire when I had to listen to it. Worse, whoever he forced to blow it died within hours."

"They died from blowing the horn?" Tyrion asked, eyes widening in shock.

Yara nodded.

"Then why blow into it?" Tyrion demanded. "Did he do it to punish the men?"

"He liked the sound of it." Yara snorted with disgust. "First, he cut out the tongues of his men because he wanted silence, then he stole a horn that wails so horribly, it's almost enough to wake the dead."

"Was that what he wanted to do?" Jon demanded. "Did he think the horn would raise the dead? Was he trying to be like the Night King?"

"No, he wanted to be like Queen Daenerys or Lady Ser Brienne," Yara clarified. "He wanted to control dragons."

"The horn controls dragons?" Brienne gasped.

Yara looked at her then beyond her to the dragons. The five were alert, sensitive to the emotional spike in the room. Allwyn flew into Brienne's lap, as if to reassure her. Brienne held the silver-grey dragon close. Podrick looked back to the other dragons anxiously, but they were still calm. Yara looked at Allwyn then up at Brienne.

"I don't know if it can control dragons. There were no dragons around when he blew it, but that was his goal." Yara turned to Daenerys. "He wanted your dragons. These little dragons weren't here when he was boasting about becoming a dragon master. He said the horn would turn your dragons into his slaves."

Daenerys gasped. Her face went white as it drained of color. Brienne felt so light-headed, she was sure her own face was equally pale. She grasped the edge of the table for support. Allwyn flew out of her lap and onto the table. The silver-grey dragon watched her while the other dragons straightened and hissed, trying to find what had upset Brienne. Podrick pulled Allwyn into his lap and held tight, as though trying to protect the dragon from the new threat.

"Where is it?" Daenerys demanded through gritted teeth. "Where did he keep it?"

"It's in his cabin on the _Silence_," Yara said. "He called it _Dragonbinder_."

Brienne jumped up from her seat. "We have to get it. Get it and destroy it. We cannot allow such a thing to exist, if there's any chance it can hurt or control our dragons." Her hand went for her sword, even though _Oathkeeper_ was no use against an instrument that might control dragons.

Jon got up, too, and held up his hands up in a calming gesture. "Yes, we'll get it but you can't go, Brienne. You have to stay here with the dragons. We don't want them anywhere near the _Silence _until we secure this horn."

"Secure!" Daenerys's voice with shrill with her outrage. "We don't need to secure it. We need to destroy it."

Theon rose from his seat. "Where is it Yara? What does the horn look like?"

Yara rose from her seat with a grimace. It was clear she was still in pain. "The armor is on a stand in his cabin. The horn was kept in a wooden box under the bunk. It looks like a dragon's horn with a black shine to it and bands of red, gold and steel with some kind of writing on it. I can show you where he had it last."

"No," Jon disagreed. "Yara, sit down. Theon will go to the _Silence_ and find it."

"The armor is heavy," Yara warned. "It's made for a large man."

Jon nodded. "Sandor, go with Theon. Bring back the armor and the horn. The horn is your first priority. We can't let anyone else have it."

Bronn also stood. "Podrick and I will go with you. You might need help." He glanced back at the five and straightened his sword belt. "A foster father can't let anybody steal his dragons out from under him, can he? It might reflect badly on my parenting skills, at the least."

Bronn's tone was mocking but it didn't completely disguise the urgency in his voice. He nodded to Brienne as he joined Sandor and Theon. Podrick urged Allwyn out of his lap. He watched the dragon fly back to the corner to join the others. The dragons puffed and hissed, sniffing the air to try to pinpoint the source of Brienne's distress.

"Don't worry, my Lady Ser," Podrick reassured Brienne. "Nothing will happen to the dragons. We'll find that horn."

"Thank you, Podrick," Brienne whispered as she watched him hurry after the others.

Podrick understood her urgency. The dragons had bonded with him through their bond with her. He felt the same desperate urgency to protect them as she did. Brienne sat down slowly but her heartbeat refused to calm. Jon waited until they left to turn back to Brienne and Daenerys.

"We don't know if the horn even works," he reminded them. "It might be just dark magic used to lure fools to their death. Killing might be its only purpose."

Brienne looked to Daenerys. The queen met her gaze, her expression grim. It wasn't a chance they could take. They had to retrieve that horn, no matter what it's intended purpose. Losing Viserion had created a threat so great, they were still trying to develop a weapon to fight against the rise of the ice dragon. What could they possibly do if the other dragons turned away from them, away from their family, could be forced to follow someone who didn't care for them? What would the world become if the dragons were exploited?

"_Dragons can't be made into slaves. They're too strong and intelligent to be broken. They would only go into battle if they wanted to. If they did, nothing could stop them but another dragon." _

Griff's voice rang in Brienne's head. He believed nothing could defeat a dragon other than another dragon. That might not be true. Euron had found a weapon that killed the blower and claimed it could stop dragons. Not only could this horn stop dragons, it might even be able to enslave them, destroying the will of the most powerful creatures in the world.

The Night King was trying to raise Viserion, but that was different. Viserion was already dead. The Night King could control the dragon's body but not it's mind. Viserion wouldn't be capable of independent thought or action.

Dragons were not meant to be slaves. They were intelligent and capable of reason, giving their love and loyalty to those they felt deserved it. Dragons bonded with their human partners, guarding them fiercely. Her young dragons cuddled with her, knew when she was distressed and flew to her defense because of their bond. The dragons could _sense_ her. Their bond was even deeper than the normal parent-child relationship.

How would breaking that bond affect the dragons? Would it be the grief of a child turning away from its parent? Or would it be worse? Could breaking that bond break a dragon's mind, remove the normal constraints that allowed it to distinguish friend from foe, parent from predator? Could this horrible horn break a dragon's mind? What terrible ramifications would come from turning dragons into slaves?

Not that it mattered. It would not happen. Brienne would destroy anyone who tried to take her dragons or their free will. Blood pounded in her veins and her hand curled around the pommel of _Oathkeeper. _It was a natural reaction, the need to defend those she loved. Any creature, man or beast, would kill to protect its young. Even when those young were destined to become the most powerful creatures the world would ever know.

A mother's love knew no limits.


	27. Away Keeper

**The Keeper**

Chapter 27: Away Keeper

Brienne placed her hands on the table, pressing down to try the control the anxiety coursing through her body. The atmosphere in the council chamber was charged with tension. The dragons hissed and flapped their wings, creating a draft in the room. Jon looked at them with concern while Daenerys rose from her seat, looking around frantically, as if expecting to see new threats magically appear around the room, her body rigid. Everyone else leaned away, as if the distance would protect them from the growing tension and the angry dragons.

"Brienne, please calm down," Jon urged her. "You're upsetting the dragons."

Brienne nodded, taking a deep breath to force herself to relax. The dragons were indeed agitated, puffed and squawking as they looked around for a threat. They were too young to understand the raw terror that had gripped her wasn't caused by a foe they could vanquish. She went to sit with them and they immediately surrounded her, trying to protect her from the unseen threat.

"I'm sorry, your Grace." Brienne pulled Ardayn and Serdun close. "Just the thought of someone using them, hurting them, makes my blood boil."

The two dragons, usually the most independent and aloof of the five, allowed her to hold them. They sensed Brienne's need for comfort, to protect those who protected her. They snuggled into her and laid their heads against her shoulders, allowing her to soak in their magical heat.

Daenerys came to join them. Gallan, the first of the five she'd ever held, willing turned towards the queen, to offer her the same physical contact Brienne needed. Daenerys smiled and reached out to the blue dragon. Allwyn cleverly ducked between them so the queen's hand landed on it instead of Gallan. Gallan squawked in protest but Allwyn preened, shifting closer to Daenerys. The queen laughed but it was strained. Like Brienne, she held both dragons close to her.

Only Catren was left without human contact. The brown dragon squawked indignantly, alone on the table, and looked around. Catren stared at the King in the North, as if he were to blame for that lack. Jon obediently rose from his seat and slowly approached.

"I'm sorry neither Podrick nor Lord Selwyn are here to hold you, Catren," he said. "But you're safe with us, little one. We'll all protect you."

Jon gently stroked down Catren's back, between the rows of emerging spikes. Catren shifted, pressing into Jon, elongating its neck to rest it on his shoulder. The dragon growled in the back of its throat, low and steady. Brienne blinked and stared at Jon. Before now, Griff had been the only person whose touch made Catren growl like that, a sound between a purr and a rumble, indicating the dragon was relaxed and content. Was the leader of the five bonding with the King in the North as it had with the future King of Seven Kingdoms?

"The dragons take well to you," Daenerys noted. "Drogon liked you from the start, too."

Jon continued to stroke Catren. "If only humans were as accepting. Sometimes I wonder what my life would have been like if I'd had a better relationship with Catren's namesake."

"Namesake?" Qyburn had turned in his chair to observe the dragons. "Is the brown dragon named after Lady Catelyn?"

Brienne nodded. "Yes, all the dragons are named in honor of important people in my life." She nodded to Catren. "Catren was named after the two people I'd sworn myself to, Lady Catelyn and King Renly."

Qyburn sighed. "I'm sorry I wasn't able to do more for your Lady, but it was too late when I found their bodies." His expression darkened. "The Freys deserved a far more brutal deaths than poison for what they did to their corpses."

Jon froze. "Their corpses? You know where their corpses are?"

Qyburn nodded. "It took me a few days to find them. I trampled around the woods south of the Twins for days, checking the dead. You won't believe it, your Grace, but it was a pack of wolves who finally led me to the king and queen's bodies."

Jon's hand flattened on Catren's back. "Wolves?"

"Yes," Qyburn confirmed. "The Riverlands have more wolves then men since the War of the Five Kings. Strangely, the wolves hadn't disturbed their bodies. In fact, it was almost as if the pack was protecting them. Then, after I'd loaded their bodies on my wagon, the pack growled at me until I also took the body of a huge grey and white wolf."

"That was Grey Wind, Robb's direwolf." Jon looked down, hiding his expression.

"Direwolf," Qyburn repeated. "That must be what the lead wolf was, too. It stayed far back from the pack, but it was enormous, even from the distance.

Jon's head jerked up. "What? You saw a direwolf? What did it look like?"

"Lighter grey and white," Qyburn said. "It was as large as the other direwolf, Grey Wind."

"Nymeria?" Jon gasped. "Nymeria is still alive?"

"I don't know its name, your Grace, but it led me to Lady Catelyn's body," Qyburn explained. "From the marks on the body and the marks on the ground, the direwolf pulled Lady Catelyn's body from the river."

Jon stared at the ex-maester for a moment, processing the information he's just received. He blinked several times before he could finally form words.

"Another Stark lives," Jon whispered. "First, Bran and Arya returned home when I'd thought they were dead and now we know Nymeria is alive, too. Nymeria was Arya's direwolf." Jon's expression tightened. "Arya sent her away all those years ago. Nymeria defended Arya from Joffery so Cersei had demanded she be killed."

Jamie jerked in his chair, so suddenly, his golden hand slammed into the table. Everyone turned to look at him.

"Your sister brought death and misery to thousands of people, Kingslayer, even to her own kin," Qyburn pointed out. "She deserves her fate."

Jamie opened his mouth but said nothing. Beside him, Tyrion sighed heavily and shook his head. There was nothing to say, no words that could defend Cersei's actions. Qyburn had led her to her greatest atrocities but only because he knew how dark her soul truly was. He didn't make Cersei do anything she didn't want to do, be anyone she wasn't already.

Jon sighed heavily and looked down at the hand he still pressed against Catren's back. "Where are their bodies now, Lord Qyburn?"

"They're safely hidden at Harrenhal, your Grace," Qyburn assured him. "The castle is mostly destroyed, providing many good hiding places. The Boltons had been given the ruin but they couldn't hold it."

Jon nodded. "We'll camp out at Harrenhal on the journey north. Then we can collect their bodies and take them to Winterfell with us. It'll give my brother and sisters some comfort when we lay them to rest in the family crypts."

"We should also burn all the bodies we find in the Riverlands, your Grace," Davos suggested quietly. "We don't want them to turn into soldiers in the Army of the Dead."

Jon grimaced but nodded. The atmosphere in the room, already tense and dark, became heavier with the king's sadness. Catren butted its head against his shoulder, now providing comfort instead of taking it. Jon resumed stroking the dragon but did so absently, his mind still with his lost kin. Brienne and Daenerys exchanged concerned glances, then looked at Missandei. The queen's advisor nodded.

Missandei spoke and drew everyone away from their heavy thoughts. "Lady Ser Brienne, I understand your name for Catren was for those you were sworn to, Gallan for your brother and Allwyn for your parents, but I don't understand why you named Serdun and Ardayn after knights."

Jon lifted his head, interested in Brienne's reply. Daenerys smiled gratefully at Missandei. Her advisor returned the smile and looked expectantly at Brienne.

"Serdun is named after Ser Duncan the Tall, who was actually an ancestor of mine. His sigil was a green shooting star above a tree on an orange background." Brienne pressed her cheek against Serdun's head. "It was a perfect fit. My guard is just as brave and devoted as its namesake."

Jon glanced over at the dragon under Brienne's other arm. "But Arthur Dayne wasn't a family member, was he?"

"No, he wasn't." Brienne looked past Jon to Jamie. "He was a great warrior and he knighted Ser Jamie. I wanted the memory of a man that noble to guide Ardayn. So far, it's working."

"You named a dragon after Ser Arthur Dayne?" Jamie's eyes softened. "He was the finest and deadliest knight in the Kingsguard. I couldn't believe it when I first heard he'd been defeated by Ned Stark."

Jon kept Catren close but reached out to stroke Ardayn. The dragon, the first of the five to accept the King in the North, graciously extended its head but remained tucked into Brienne's side.

"My father also had great respect for Ser Arthur." Jon stroked under Ardayn's jaw. "He took his sword back to his family at Starfall."

"It would have done no good to keep it," Jamie said quietly. "Only Ser Arthur could wield it."

"A powerful weapon that only defends the person it chooses to bond with." Jon studied Ardayn, who stretched out its neck to allow the king to better stroke it. "You certainly named this dragon properly, Brienne."

Suddenly Ardayn hissed and puffed, wrenching out from under Brienne's arm and Jon's touch. Jon jerked back, releasing Catren at the same time. Serdun also puffed and pulled away from Brienne. Allwyn and Gallan flew out from Daenerys's arms at the same time. In seconds, the dragons were on the floor, creating a defensive line. They extended their wings and hissed in warning, but not at Jon.

Jamie had gotten up from his seat and gone around the table. He froze when the dragons lined up against him. The five had formed a defensive line to protect Brienne, Jon and Daenerys from Jamie, the only enemy they recognized in the room. The warmth in Jamie's wildfire eyes chilled to bitter acceptance.

"I'm sorry," Brienne gasped. She sunk down to her knees to hold Catren and Allwyn. "They sense I'm upset and worried. They don't know where the threat is coming from so they're being extra careful."

Daenerys put her arms around Gallan and Serdun's necks, but she was so tiny she didn't have to kneel to sooth them. Jon reached down slowly to Ardayn. The king released his breath on a heavy exhale when the dragon accepted his touch. Jon stroked Ardayn's head and carefully wrapped his arm around the silver-grey dragon.

"Ser Jamie, go back to your seat," Jon ordered quietly, his gaze on the still-tense Ardayn. "Now is not the time to try to bond with the dragons. Brienne is too worried for them to relax their guard."

Jamie nodded and slowly backed away, never looking away from the dragons. The five didn't relax until Jamie was on the other side of the table. Then a thunderous roar, so loud it shook the glass in the windows, shattered the silence. Daenerys released Gallan and Serdun to rush to the windows overlooking the bay.

"Drogon and Rhaegal are sitting on the towers, firing into the sky," she reported.

"They must have sensed your anxiety and returned early from their morning hunt, your Grace," Missandei guessed.

"How do your dragons know you're distressed, your Grace?" Qyburn questioned.

Daenerys stared at him. "What do you mean?"

"Lady Ser Brienne's dragons are in the same room with her so it's easy for them to understand her feelings," Qyburn elaborated. "Even humans are sensitive enough to pick up on emotions at close range. But your dragons were away from us. How did they know you're distressed? What is their range of sensitivity?"

Daenerys drew her brows together. "I don't know."

"Drogon came to rescue you when we were in the fighting pit in Meereen," Missandei reminded her. "No one had seen him for days but when you needed him, he was there."

"He also came when the young dragons were attacked on the Narrow Sea," Brienne added. "We were in open waters, hours away from any shore, but Drogon came when the five needed help."

"Dragonstone," Jorah said. "Drogon and the young dragons were left at Dragonstone when we all attended the parlay. How were they when you left with Rhaegal, Khaleesi?"

"They were fine." Daenerys returned to her seat at the table. "They were on the beach with Lord Selwyn, playing and fishing. They saw us leave but weren't bothered."

"Yet a few hours later they came to the Dragonpit," Jorah pointed out. "They'd never been there before but they knew where to go, where to find you and Lady Ser Brienne."

"Are you saying the dragons' emotional range extends as far out as Dragonstone?" Qyburn questioned.

"No, it goes even further," Daenerys corrected. "The young dragons flew from Valyria to return to Brienne."

Qyburn shook his head. "That's not possible, your Grace. I can accept Dragonstone because the dragons could fly from here to there in an hour's time, possibly less. The trip from Valyria would have taken days, even for the large dragons, for they must rest, eat and sleep."

"Why all these questions about the dragon's emotional range?" Jon asked as he also returned to his seat. "Are you asking because of this horn's possible range?"

"Partially," Qyburn agreed. "But I was also wondering for this Night King. How does he raise his dead army? What is his range? Does he communicate with them? The dead are sentient under his command."

Jon simply stared at the ex-maester. "What does that mean?"

Qyburn folded his hands and smiled. His expression, normally calm and guarded, brightened. He sat up straighter to deliver his lecture.

"Sentient means the creature is alive and capable of continuing its purpose," he explained. "For example, an ant is considered sentient if it finds food and creates a path for other ants to follow. It doesn't think or decide which crumb to take. It just does what it was created to do. Humans are able to logic. They decide which crumbs to eat, which to dispose. They can even decide to give that food to another and go hungry themselves."

Qyburn looked around to make sure everyone understood. They all nodded back at him. Even the dragons had relaxed. Brienne sat on the floor, the folds of her newest modified gown casting a circle of azure around her. The dragons were gathered so close, the silky material draped over their wings and tails.

"We know death stops the human body from functioning and it eventually breaks down. Skin, bone and muscles will decay," Qyburn explained. "We also know the dead the Night King raised still retain some human aspects. We saw, at the Dragonpit, that the creature could still see, run on two legs and was verbal, screaming out a battle cry. It tried to attack when it first came out of the crate. Correct?"

Everyone nodded to show their understanding of Qyburn's explanation.

"This tells us the creatures are not tethered to the Night King. Once raised, they will continue with their purpose, just like our ant. It has a purpose and follows it. Therefore, we should try to understand how the creature _gets_ its purpose so we can devise a strategy to disrupt it." Qyburn looked at Jon almost reproachfully. "It would be much easier to study these creatures if you hadn't destroyed our only example, your Grace."

Jon straightened in surprise. "I thought it was best to show how to destroy it, not save it for study. But I assure you, Lord Qyburn, you'll have many opportunities to study the Wight and White Walkers, in the war to come."

"But what does this have to do with the horn?" Daenerys demanded. "How will this protect the dragons?"

"It may not help us with the dragons but it might lead to a weapon we can use against the dead," Qyburn explained. "Queen Yara said this horn made a such a terrible noise, it felt like her body was on fire."

"Yes," Yara agreed. "I felt like I was burning from the inside."

"So, hearing the horn disrupted your mental and physical functions while it was being blown?" Qyburn questioned.

"Yes, I guess." Yara frowned. "I was so busy trying _not_ to hear the sound that I didn't think or move."

"There you have it." Qyburn unlaced his fingers and spread his hands as though presenting an extraordinary find. "Our weapon."

The former maester looked pleased with himself. Everyone else looked around at each other then back to Qyburn with knitted brows and confused expressions. Qyburn sighed with great patience, his expression melting back into its usual stoic acceptance.

"I don't understand," Davos admitted.

"I do," Tyrion spoke up. "Lord Qyburn thinks, if the horn disrupts mental and physical functions, the same theory applies for the dragons. The _Dragonbinder_ is a terrible noise that hurts to hear. It's a punishment they want to avoid. And he thinks we can create a horn of our own to disrupt the Wights in the same way."

Qyburn looked at Tyrion with a mixture of loathing and unwilling agreement.

"Lord Qyburn, we're all facing the same enemy," Jon reminded him. "We cannot war amongst ourselves when we face such a devastating threat. You swore yourself into my service. As your king, I command you to cooperate with those who join this council."

For a moment, Qyburn stiffened but he looked to Jon and nodded. "As you wish, my King."

Jon nodded back to him. Qyburn took a deep breath and seemed to center himself. Then he turned to back Tyrion.

"Yes, Lord Tyrion, hearing is one of the basic human functions," Qyburn confirmed. "Humans have weak audible range while other animals, such as dogs, can hear a wider pitch range than a man. Dragons are far more sensitive and intelligent than dogs, perhaps even than men. We know their aptitude, sensory range and emotions capability is far greater than ours. It's a reasonable supposition that their auditory ability is equally more acute."

"What?" Davos asked. "What did you say?"

"He said dragons have better hearing and are more sensitive in general so the horn will cause them more pain then even Queen Yara experienced," Tryion explained. "This _Dragonbinder_ can hurt their minds, bodies and hearing to the point they'll do whatever is necessary to make it stop."

"Why didn't he just say that?" Davos grumbled. "Don't mind us simple folks here."

Qyburn sighed. Brienne stared as the ex-maester settled back in his chair, long-suffering patience dulling his eyes. He was an educated man, used to working in the rarefied atmosphere of the Citadel, with men as intelligent as he was. But he'd sworn himself to the service of a bastard king, the brother of the man who had saved his life. Now he would use his superior mental skills to aid the living. Qyburn was now another warrior in the Gods' army of men.

"He also said we could build a weapon of our own that might be able to disrupt the Wights, cause them so much confusion, perhaps even pain, they'll forget their programming," Jorah added. He looked to Qyburn. "Is that right?"

"Yes," Qyburn nodded, a faint smile gracing his lips. "Once I have that horn, I can investigate how it's built."

"No, you can't," Yara insisted. "People die when they blow that horn."

"I'd don't plan to blow it, Queen Yara," Qyburn assured her. "I plan to tear it apart to learn how it makes sound."

"You will not," Daenerys snapped. "I won't allow that horn to exist. We'll destroy it the moment we have it. There are many other horns. Investigate with them, not this horror."

Qyburn turned to Jon. "Your Grace, please. You understand new methods and treatments require study. I need to study this horn."

Daenerys's face flushed and her eyes flashed. Her harsh indrawn breath could be heard across the room. "I'm the Queen. You'll obey my orders."

Qyburn was unruffled. "I've pledged myself to the White Wolf; to the King in the North who carries Stark blood in his veins. He is my king. I obey only his orders."

Jon looked at Daenerys, then to Brienne surrounded by her dragons. The dragons looked back at him, but remained snuggled around Brienne. His eyes softened and he smiled at them. Jon shook his head at Qyburn.

"No, Lord Qyburn," he said. "Queen Daenerys is right. This horn it too dangerous. We can't risk it hurting anyone, human or dragon. We'll destroy it the moment we have it."

Daenerys relaxed but still glared at Qyburn. Brienne understood the queen's anger. Qyburn might be right about the importance of research but they simply couldn't put the dragons at risk. She remembered what Drogon had done to the pirate armada. The dragon had acted to protect the five, destroying every last remnant of the enemy who'd dared to attack the young dragons.

What would they do if Drogon could be commanded to consider them its enemy? Would it turn on the five, the young it had brought into the world? What about Daenerys? She was its mother, the sole reason it even existed. Could Drogon hurt its own mother? Brienne pulled Allwyn into her lap, and looked at the remaining dragons. The idea of anyone causing them pain terrified her.

Tyrion shook his head. "It doesn't make sense. How can the blower become a dragon master if the horn kills him within hours? What is the value of mastering dragons for such a short time?"

"Death and destruction," Jamie answered quietly. "Aerys wanted to destroy King's Landing when he knew he couldn't hold it. If he'd had _Dragonbinder,_ and dragons existed during his time, he'd have blown it and kept blowing until the dragons burned the whole world. He wanted to die in the flames. And there are others like him."

Jamie's eyes darkened with the memory. Brienne's closed her eyes against the blunt reminder. There were people in the world who only wanted their own way, who would use a weapon such as _Dragonbinder_ to annihilate the world. People existed who would rather die in their victory than allow another's success.

Drogon alone could destroy King's Landing in an hour's time. The combined strength of Drogon and Rhaegal, even without the young dragons with their limited fire range and strength, would devastate Westeros during those few hours of a madman's reign. Brienne opened her eyes as a shudder passed through her. The young dragons pressed into her body, Allwyn digging into her lap, almost as if giving her their strength to stay upright.

Daenerys drew in her breath, color draining from her face. She looked at the five then out the windows to where Drogon and Rheagal sat, staying close to their anxious mother. Missandei caught Daenerys's hand between both of her own.

"It won't happened, my Queen," Missandei assured her. "We'll destroy this weapon. No one will take your dragons from you."

"Aye," Jorah agreed. "In fact, we'll have Drogon burn this horn, turn it to ashes so it cannot hurt anyone again."

Daenerys released her breath and nodded. A knock on the door interrupted her before she could speak. They all looked to the door as Qhono opened it. A young servant stood in the doorway, holding a tray with scrolls bouncing on the surface. He shook visibly, eyes twitching wildly as he looked around. His fear only grew more violent when he saw the dragons surrounding Brienne. Tyrion went to the doorway to take the tray. The boy bowed and almost threw himself out the door.

"More messages, your Graces." Tyrion brought the tray to their table. "I'm finally getting replies to the ravens I've been sending out."

"Why are there so many?" Jon asked.

"I sent scrolls to all the remaining Lords in the southlands to inform them of their new queen," Tyrion explained. "I expect these are their replies with, hopefully, pledges of fealty."

"Does that mean they'll send troops to the capital?" Jon asked.

"Men or food," Tyrion answered. "We need both."

Tyrion sorted through them rapidly then stopped at one. His expression became grave and he passed the scroll down to Davos.

"It's for King Jon." Tyrion's voice clogged and he cleared his throat. "It's Lady Sansa's handwriting."

Davos passed it to Jon, who quickly broke the seal and scanned the contents. His expression grew grim. Everyone looked around and steadied themselves, preparing to hear bad news.

"The dead are marching towards Eastwatch-by-the-Sea, to where Viserion went down," Jon explained. "The ice still holds but Sansa reports more and more dead have begun to rise south of the Wall. She's asked me to return to the North and bring as many men as possible."

"It's good that the ice is holding," Jorah pointed out. "The Night King brings the winter storms. It's his own presence that keeps the ice in place. He's restrained by the Wall unless it can raise Viserion."

"How intelligent is this Night King?" Qyburn asked. "Will he eventually reason that he needs to leave the dragon in order to raise the dragon?"

"We don't know," Jon answered. "He was smart enough to bring Viserion down. Eventually, he'll retreat further north to allow the ice to break. But until he does, he continues to be a threat as he raises the dead south of the Wall. We need to place men in the Night's Watch castles and train them to fight Wights."

"How quickly do you want to leave, your Grace?' Davos asked.

Jon looked up from the scroll. "At daylight tomorrow."

"Daylight tomorrow," Daenerys gasped. "So soon?"

Daenerys's anxiety was more than that of a person facing the loss of a friend. Their nightly conversations had made it clear, to Brienne at least, that Daenerys's feelings for the King in the North were warmer than friendship. The queen was already planning to rule Westeros with Jon at her side and Brienne at her back.

Neither Daenerys nor Jon were aware the true King of the Seven Kingdoms would arrive in mere days. Brienne was anticipating and dreading his arrival. Griff would relieve her of the burden of hiding her true loyalties. But that reveal would destroy her relationships with Daenerys, Jon and their entourages. She'd never lied to any of them but the betrayal of omission would hurt them deeply.

"That's not enough time to organize our men," Jorah protested. "Most of the Dothraki are still at Dragonstone."

"Where are the rest of your men?" Davos asked. "Aren't the Unsullied returning to the capital?"

"A contingent will remain at Casterly Rock, to guard Lannisport," Jorah reported. "The majority are preparing to march back to King's Landing."

"Can they be diverted to march to Harrenhal instead?" Jon asked.

Jorah looked at Daenerys then nodded. "It will take them as least a week to arrive."

"Good," Jon nodded. "Ser Davos and I will take provisions with us, as well. We'll arrive in five days and be there to meet them. Lord Tyrion, send out ravens to all the remaining Lords in the Riverlands. We'll welcome any fighters who swear fealty to the army of men."

"Fealty to whom?" Danenerys asked, a sharp edge to her voice. "House Targaryen or House Stark?"

Jon stared at her, meeting her gaze directly. "Does it matter?"

For a moment, the monarchs held each other's gaze. Everyone else shifted, looking from one ruler to the other. Even thought she was anxious over separating from Jon, Daenerys never lost sight of her belief in her right to rule Westeros. The dragons raised their heads, interested but not alarmed. Finally, Daenerys nodded.

"You're right," the queen accepted. "Until we defeat the Night King, we are all united in the army of men."

"What about the _Iron Fleet_?" Yara asked. "You said the Unsullied captured my uncle's ships at Lannisport."

"Aye, we have the ships," Jorah agreed. "But the Ironborn captains refuse to sail them without their queen to command them."

Yara nodded. "I'll send ravens to order those loyal to me to sail to the capital. But it will take them at least a week also, perhaps longer if the winds are against them."

"Your ships need to go to Braavos to ferry the _Golden Company_," Davos reminded her.

"We have enough ships in King's Landing to make the first trip, bring at least a third of their men and supplies," Yara estimated. "But it will take us a month to deliver them to White Harbor."

"Supplies will be crucial," Davos said. "War has drained the North of resources. With so many men and a harsh winter approaching, we need salted or pickled meats and fish, dry grains and hardy vegetables to avoid starvation. That must also come from Braavos."

"Yes, we do, Ser Davos," Jon agreed. "But how will we pay for provisions?"

"We have the Casterly gold, your Grace," Qyburn reminded him. "The Unsullied can bring it with them. The Ironborn ships can dock at Maidenpool or perhaps as far inland as Quiet Isle. We can transport the gold from Harrenhal to an Ironborn ship."

"I'll personally escort the gold to Braavos, your Graces," Yara promised. "Once we have the _Iron Fleet_ at full strength, we can deliver the _Golden Company_ and provisions to White Harbor within six weeks."

"Good," Jon nodded. "The march to Winterfell will take us at least a full month. What about the remaining Lannister troops?"

"We don't have many," Jamie admitted. "Many have gone back to their own houses and keeps. They've lost faith in House Lannister."

"But we have some." Tyrion held up several scrolls. "I have fealty to House Targaryen from three houses and expect more will bend the knee in the coming days."

"I don't have time to wait for them," Jon said. He looked to Daenerys. "When can the rest of your army march?"

Daenerys hesitated then looked to Jorah. He frowned as he thought then looked at Yara. Jorah's expression cleared.

"If we use the _Iron Fleet_ ships we already have to bring the Dothraki to the capital, that will cut down the travel time from Dragonstone considerably," Jorah suggested. "We might be ready the day following."

Yara nodded. "Yes, I inspected the ships and men myself. We can begin this afternoon. I believe you're right, Ser Jorah. We can have the Dothraki here by sunset tomorrow."

"Can you delay one more day, King Jon?" Daenerys asked. "Then we can all travel together. The people will see we are united in their protection."

"We?" Jon repeated. "You're going north with us?"

Daenerys straightened in her chair. "Of course, I am. I'm not a queen who hides behind castle walls while other fight in my name. I'll lead my dragons and my men into battle."

Brienne stared at the queen, stunned by the rapidly changing events. Daenerys and Jon were both leaving the capital only days before Griff and the _Sea Keeper_ were scheduled to arrive. Brienne had lost sleep due to her dread of the upcoming clash of the dragons. But now it seemed Griff would have no barriers to his accession to kingship. Daenerys had claimed the capital but she and her dragons were leaving. She'd have no hold on King's Landing from Winterfell. How had events set themselves up so perfectly for the future king?

"What about Dorne?" Brienne asked anxiously. "We still need the parlay with them to stop their march."

"I haven't forgotten," Jon assured her. "You'll attend the parlay, Brienne. You'll have Dothraki, Unsullied, Ironborn and Lord Tyrion at your side."

Brienne nodded slowly. She would also have Griff. He knew how to persuade people, lead men, settle conflicts and find compromises. He was even a son of Dorne, the only living memory of their deeply beloved Princess Elia. His presence, along with his command of the young dragons, might be all it took to stop the Dornish march against King's Landing.

"If I may, your Grace," Qyburn interrupted. "Perhaps it's not a wise idea to send Lord Tyrion to Dorne. They have no love for Lannisters."

Tyrion sat up straighter in his seat and exchanged looks with Jamie. Both brothers grimaced.

"I can bow out of the parlay, my Queen," Tyrion offered. "Perhaps Lords Qyburn and Varys would present a better message. They both have contacts in Dorne."

"If the Dornish are aware of what occurs in Essos, as Ser Jorah suggests, then they know you're the Hand to the Queen," Daenerys pointed out. "Sending anyone else to speak for me would be false. Also, who else can guide King's Landing while Ser Jorah, Missandei and I journey north?"

Tyrion's expression was a cross between astonishment and gratitude. Daenerys planned to leave the city she'd just claimed to a Lannister, the unwanted brother of the queen she'd just deposed. Brienne looked down to hide the sudden flush in her cheeks. Tyrion Lannister was no obstacle for Griff. He'd brush away the youngest lion's objections without concern. Tyrion would inform Daenerys of Griff's arrival and Brienne's loyalty but what would the Dragon Queen do? Would she return to King's Landing to confront her nephew or continue north at Jon's side?

Brienne looked around the table to gauge everyone's reactions to Daenerys's announcement. They shifted in their seats, also looking around the table, except Jorah and Missandei. Their faith in their queen's decisions was as strong as always. Varys and Qyburn both had calm, unreadable expressions, revealing nothing. Jamie looked at his brother with a mixture of relief and worry. Yara had a faint frown but remained silent. Davos sighed heavily but Jon's expression remained firm.

"We have no choice," Jon insisted. "I'll agree to remain one more day but that's all. I have to return to the North. My people need me."

"The Valyrian steel weapons can't be ready that quickly," Davos cautioned. "Even with extra smiths, Gendry needs more time. Plus, he wants to go north with us."

"We'll take what he can prepare for us," Jon decided. "The rest will come with Ser Jamie when he journeys north with the southlands forces."

Jamie's eyes widened. "You want me, a Lannister, to lead the southland armies?" His voice was higher than usual, betraying his shock and surprise.

"Yes." Jon's expression was calm. "Brienne says you're a man of honor and you've committed yourself to the army of men. You're an experienced leader. Most of the men know you and have served under you, even if their Lords don't trust your sister. You'll lead them, any late-comers you gather on the Kingsroad and the men of the _Golden Company_ sailing to King's Landing."

Jamie opened and closed his mouth twice, apparently unable to put his emotions into words. Jon had given back command of the Lannister forces to Jamie and trusted him to be true to his word. Jamie was clearly grateful for Jon's faith in him. Brienne stiffened as another ugly confrontation loomed before her. Griff would come with the men aboard the _Sea Keeper_. How would he react to be led by Jamie Lannister, the man who'd killed his grandfather and whom Griff hated for the murders of his mother and sister?

"When is the _Golden Company_ ship scheduled to arrive?" Davos asked.

"We anticipate five days from now," Tyrion answered. "I received a raven from Harry Strickland this morning. Poor weather has slowed them down but they expect the storms to break tomorrow or the day after. Then it will take them four days to sail to the capital."

"Have we heard from Sunspear?" Varys asked. "It doesn't matter how many men you gather, if no one will parlay with us."

"That will be your sole focus, Lord Varys," Jon commanded. "Work with Lord Qyburn and your little birds. Find someone, anyone, who will meet with us. I'm confident Brienne's dragons will resolve the issue quickly, once they're invited into the city."

"Yes, your Grace," Varys nodded.

Jon nodded back then looked at Qyburn. Qyburn bowed his head respectfully.

"Yes, my King, it will be done," the ex-maester vowed.

"But what about the leaving ceremony?" Missandei asked. "We don't have enough time to prepare in only two days."

"You don't need to prepare. People come out to see the dragons regardless," Brienne pointed out. "Just the fact that the dragons will follow you ensures the people will watch."

Daenerys frowned but her reply was lost when the door opened. Theon, Sandor, Bronn and Podrick came into the room. They were disheveled with their faces streaked with dirt, hair mused and clothes torn in places. Sandor, Theon and Bronn all carried various parts of a black suit of armor with a distinctive scale design, similar to the dragons' scales. Podrick carried a long, flat wooden box.

Brienne jumped up from the floor. The dragons also rose with her. Everyone turned to observe the newcomers.

"Is that it?" Daenerys demanded. "Is that the horn?"

Sandor and Theon exchanged looks then stared at the wooden box Podrick held. Podrick looked down then over at Bronn. Bronn ran his fingers through his already mussed hair, his expression grim and troubled.

"It's the case for the horn," Bronn explained. "We found it where Queen Yara said it would be but the case is empty."

"What?" Daenerys and Brienne both cried, their voices shrill with distress.

Theon nodded. "We tore the _Silence_ apart. Nothing that looks like a horn is on that ship. The _Dragonbinder_ has been stolen."

_Stolen_. Brienne looked at Daenerys who looked back at her with equal fear and despair in her eyes. A weapon terrible enough to control the most powerful creatures in the world was missing. But who and why? Was the thief innocent of the power and purpose of the weapon he'd taken? Had it been a chance theft of an object that could be traded for gold? Or did someone know what the horn was capable of doing and want to use it?

Regardless of the reason, _Dragonbinder_ was gone. Someone held the power to turn the dragons, Daenerys's greatest strength and Brienne's divine duty, into weapons against their own family and against Westeros itself. Brienne had worried she wasn't strong enough, honorable enough to bear the responsibility of having dragons. She'd loved them and cared for them to the best of abilities, always knowing they were the Gods' gifts. She was their keeper and would do anything to keep them safe. Now an object beyond her control threatened them and even threatened Drogon and Rheagal, too.

Someone was willing to die, and kill, for the power of the dragons.

**Author's Note:** I'm without a beta this week again. Please let me know of errors in the chapter.

I'll be on vacation for the next two weeks. I don't know if I'll have much chance to write while I'm away. I'll try to be online to respond to questions and feedback but the next chapter won't post until September 7th.

Thank you for reading and all your wonderful feedback. I really appreciate knowing people are reading and enjoying my hard work.


	28. Guard Keeper

The Keeper

Chapter 28:

Brienne watched the sun rise over Blackwater Bay from her position near the Gate of the Gods, just outside King's Landing's fortress walls. It was time. After two days of frantic activity, the King in the North and the Queen of Westeros were leaving King's Landing. They were off to fight a terrible threat most people in the southlands didn't even comprehend. The talk of wights and a zombie king who brought the winter storms was only a fanciful story in the balmy warmth of the southlands.

The citizens may not have believed talk about the Night King and his Army of the Dead but they did understand approaching armies, dragons and Dothraki bloodriders. The _Iron Fleet_ had begun transporting the Dothraki to the capital immediately after the council meeting two days prior. They'd set up a makeshift camp on the tourney grounds to house the Dragon Queen's khalasar. The citizens of King's Landing had watched with awe and fear as the big, brawny fighters, wielding curved arakhs and recurved bows, entered the city.

The Lannister army had also started to return. Tyrion and Varys had put out the word that Jaime was still their honorable commander. The few surviving members of the group attacked by Drogon had been allowed to return to the capital and vouch for their commander's bravery on the battlefield. Jaime also participated in troop inspections with Jon, Jorah and Qhono, reassuring the anxious southland lords and officers the Lannister army would march alongside the Starks and Targaryens to battle their common enemy.

"Did you ever think we'd see the day when the Lannister, Stark and Targaryen banners would join together?" Varys asked, sliding quietly into place beside her.

Brienne scowled. "I wish there wasn't a day when all the great banners of Westeros were forced to join together. No matter how many men we gather, is it enough to fight what we face?"

"I don't know." Varys joined her in studying the troops. "But if it's not…"

He didn't finish his sentence but he didn't need to. Brienne understood the enormity of the threat they faced. The Army of the Dead was so great a threat, even the Gods had added their influence. They'd given the armies of men powerful weapons: rational leaders, brave fighters, dragonglass, Valyrian steel and fire-breathing dragons. But even that might not be enough, not with what they faced: a Night King who could kill and possibly raise dragons, a renewable army that didn't tire or sleep and a horn that could turn their dragons against them.

Despite the threat of the missing _Dragonbinder_, Daenerys and Brienne had decided to keep the dragons in the capital. They didn't know the range of the horn, if it really affected the dragons or even who had it. Brienne had barely slept at night, keeping watch over the young dragons nesting in the Queen's sitting room and the large dragons blotting out the moon and stars as they kept close to their own equally anxious mother.

Missandei came to stand beside her. "This is farewell for now, Brienne."

Brienne nodded and swallowed against the sudden tightness in her throat. She'd only known Daenerys's advisor, and Daenerys herself, for a few days. But in that short time, she'd been welcomed into their company and been treated with an affection and comradery she'd never known before. That would end now. Not only because the two women were leaving but because they would soon learn the truth of her loyalties and her allegiance to the true King of the Seven Kingdoms.

Brienne looked away and smoothed down the sides of her modified gown, a grey dress with black sleeves and red trim, over black breeches and shiny black flat boots. _Stark and Targaryen colors._ Missandei was dressed almost the same, except her sleeves were red and the trim black. A silver circle, depicting the three-headed dragon, the Targaryen symbol, was pinned at her shoulder.

Missandei took her hands. "We'll be together again soon, Lady Ser Brienne."

Brienne squeezed her hands and nodded again, still unable to speak. Missandei smiled at her but it wobbled and her lovely face was pinched and tight. The young dragons were gathered around Brienne, as usual, but were not unduly concerned by the Dothraki hoard. Instead, the crowded closer, picking up on her distress, perhaps even realizing Missandei would leave them soon.

Daenerys came to join them and Brienne's throat tightened even more. The Queen coordinated with Brienne and Missandei in a black modified gown with grey sleeves and red trim worn over black breeches and boots. Her thick silver blonde hair was arranged in a coronet of braids. A heavy silver chain with a clasp of the Targaryen symbol held her cloak in place. _Dragon's Eye's_ ornate pommel gleamed from her black and silver sword belt.

"Yes, we will," Daenerys agreed, covering their joined hands with hers, smiling with equal parts of distress and determination. "We'll be victorious in our battle against the Army of the Dead. Once I return, we'll put these terrible days behind us and lead Westeros to a great and glorious future."

Brienne finally controlled her voice enough to say, "I wish you great success in battle, your Grace."

The three women allowed their hands to separate. The ache in Brienne's throat increased. It was almost foreshadowing. The connection they'd built would be severed just as easily. Westeros's future might be great and glorious but it wouldn't be led by Daenerys.

Guilty color flushed her cheeks as Brienne looked past Daenerys to Drogon and Rhaegal sitting on the battlements. The dragons flapped their wings and roared to the sky, eager to begin their journey. The breeze from their wings ruffled the black and red Targaryen banners that had replaced the Lannister flags. King's Landing was in a state of transition, conquered by the Dragon Queen in a nearly bloodless coup but managed by a Lannister in her absence.

Soon, that Lannister would be pushed out by another Targaryen, one who wouldn't need to conquer the capital to claim it. Aegon the Sixth Targaryen, would brush Tyrion Lannister aside as nothing more than an irritating insect. Griff was a seasoned battle commander. He'd come to King's Landing with a plan to enforce his rule and a strategy for mitigating the Dornish threat. He wouldn't do what his enemies expected him to do, nor would he take orders from anyone, especially not a Lannister. By the time Daenerys returned, Griff would have command of the capital, with the _Golden Company_ spreading out to take control of Crownlands, the Stormlands and the Reach.

"Are we ready?" Jon broke into her thoughts, his voice deeper than usual, stress apparent in his stiff posture.

The King in the North wore a dark cloak over his equally dark clothes, the Stark's wolf insignia pressed into the leather straps. Davos had the same mark pressed into his leathers as well. Beside them, Qyburn, the deadly stealth eagle, had covered his maester's robe with a cloak bearing the wolf's head sigil, indicating his loyalty to House Stark. Yara and Theon also wore dark leathers, the kraken symbol burned into their jackets, while Jorah and Qhono's capes had the three-headed dragon. Varys wore his customary robes and somber expression, staying in the shadow of the gate.

"We are, your Grace," Davos confirmed.

Gendry, Jaime and Tyrion came to join the group. The smith carried a large, heavy war hammer. Even his roughly stitched jacket had the wolf insignia pressed into the shoulder. Jaime and Gendry kept their distance, wary of the dragons, but Tyrion marched up to Jon's side.

"How many Valyrian steel weapons were you able to repair?" Jorah asked Gendry. Daenerys's first knight now had _Dragon's Blade_, a powerful Valyrian steel sword, with a familiar silver and white pommel and silver, blue-eyed dragon's head, hanging from his sword belt.

"More than a third," Gendry responded. "The rest will be ready in the next week."

"Good," Jon agreed. "Ser Jaime will distribute some to his generals then bring the rest north with his army."

"We may catch up with you on the Gold Road," Jaime suggested. "We'll be lighter without the burden of the barrels of wildfire."

"Dorne is your first priority,' Jon reminded him. "Your may have to engage them if Lord Tyrion and the young dragons cannot stop the Dornish march."

"We'll stop them," Tyrion assured. "Now that Manfrey Martell has agreed to meet with us in Sunspear. The Dornish might have been able to fight a fractured Lannister army but they can't beat our combined armies, even without the dragons. The Dornish might be angry but they're not stupid."

"Still, be prepared for anything," Jorah advised. "Even the invitation to Sunspear might be a trap."

"We will," Jaime assured him.

"We have another concern, your Grace." Tyrion held up a pair of scrolls. "These just arrived from Lady Sansa. She wrote a letter to each of us. Robin Arryn has demanded the Knights of the Vale return to the Eyrie. She writes that Lord Royce has failed in his attempts to keep the knights at Winterfell."

Jon snatched up the scroll Tyrion extended to him and broke the seal. They watched the king's eyes scan the scroll as he read through his sister's message. Around them, the sounds of the march preparation faded as the men fell into formation. Daenerys used the quiet moment to stoke the dragons while Missandei smiled at them with gentle affection.

"This is that serpent Littlefinger's doing," Brienne insisted. "I accompanied Lady Sansa to meet with Baelish before the battle against the Boltons. He's -"

"Dead," Jon interrupted flatly.

Brienne drew in her breath sharply. "Littlefinger? He'd dead?"

Jon looked up from the letter. "Sansa had him executed for treason against House Stark, the murder of Lysa Arryn and conspiracy in the murder of Jon Arryn."

"Jon Arryn," Tyrion repeated. "Your father accused the Lannisters of killing him."

Jon looked back at Sansa's letter. "It was Littlefinger. He conspired with Aunt Lysa to kill her husband. Then he conspired with Cersei and Joffrey to hide that Joffrey wasn't the rightful heir to the Iron Throne."

Jaime's face flushed with color and he took a step back. He remained silent but his gaze shifted to the ground. Brienne's heart ached for the regret and sadness in his expression. No one else noticed, too focused on the new information.

"I'm the rightful heir to the Iron Throne," Daenerys interjected. "This Littlefinger's treacheries shed unnecessary blood."

"It did more than shed blood, your Grace," Tyrion corrected. "It started the War of the Five Kings, turned the Lannisters against the Starks and nearly turned all of the Riverlands into a graveyard."

"There's more than enough blame to go around," Davos said quietly. "But we gain nothing from laying it."

"He's right," Jon agreed. "It doesn't matter whose corpse sits on any throne if we don't defeat the Night King and his Army of the Dead."

"Losing the Knights of the Vale is a harsh blow. We needed them at Winterfell if the Night King raises Viserion before we arrive to reinforce the northern armies." Davos pointed out.

"Has Lady Sansa attempted to reason with Lord Robin?" Tyrion asked. "I've met him. He's just a child. He doesn't understand what he's doing."

"Lord Royce is his regent," Jon explained, exchanging his letter with Tyrion's. "Sansa and he both tried to reason with Robin but 'his lordship' demands his knights return to the Vale."

"So, what does that mean?" Jaime demanded, watching his little brother scan the message.

Jon looked up from reading the scroll Sansa had written to Tyrion. "It means we need to get our armies to the North as soon as possible."

"Right." Yara agreed. "We'll send a group to Harrenhal once we dock our ships at Maidenpool. The remainder of the _Iron Fleet_ should join us by the time we're ready to sail to Braavos. We'll bring back the _Golden Company_ and supplies."

Everyone was quiet for a moment, even the dragons, as they absorbed the enormity of the task before them. They were preparing for war while so many around them were ignorant of the terrible threat facing Westeros. Not only did they have to battle the Night King's Army of the Dead, they also faced threats, through war or desertion, from the two most powerful living armies in Westeros. Dorne was marching to exact revenge against House Lannister while the Vale was under the rule of a willful, selfish child.

"I wish you a safe journey and great success, your Graces," Tyrion spoke, his voice as heavy as the silence it broke.

"Thank you, Lord Tyrion," Jon replied. "I wish you equal safety and success on your mission to Dorne."

Jon looked to Daenerys who nodded to the Queensguard. The Queensguard had dressed in their previous armor, shiny gold plates with white enameling and the emblem of the Kingsguard, their long white cloaks streaming down their backs. Brienne studied the five remaining guards. She knew about their terrible deeds, what they'd allowed and even done to Sansa under Joffery's orders. Grown men abusing children without mercy or shame. Their soft bodies and stained cloaks were an insult to the brave, noble men who had come before them. Still, they were a symbol of the Queen's authority, even though it was the bloodriders who protected Daenerys.

Jon, Daenerys, Missandei, Jorah, Davos, Gendry and Qyburn mounted their horses. Jon and Daenerys galloped to the head of the procession while the others joined the bloodriders. Once the group turned to the King's Road, Drogon and Rhaegal took to the skies above them.

Bronn, Sandor and Podrick were missing from the ensemble. After bringing the Valyrian steel armor, they'd immediately decided to search for _Dragonbinder._ They began combing through stalls of Fishmonger's Square, the brothels on the Street of Silk and the taverns of Flea Bottom, trying to pick up whispers of the horn's location or who had stolen it. Brienne hadn't been surprised by Podrick's eagerness to question the fishmongers. It made sense the thief might be known on the dock or the ships. She'd rolled her eyes when Bronn had insisted on talking to the whores who might have heard words about a weapon capable of hurting his foster-dragons. Despite his flippancy, Bronn's eyes had been hard, serious and focused. He'd seen, first-hand, the devastation a dragon could cause. He knew they had to find the horn.

What surprised Brienne had been Sandor's willingness to help with the search. The big man had muttered, 'More shit for me to clean up,' but had gone willingly with the others. But, as Jon had reminded her, Sandor had joined them in the battle north of the Wall and had seen how easily the big dragons could destroy thousands. Sandor also knew about the dark, dangerous places in Flea Bottom where men were willing to buy and sell anything. He even knew the agonizing pain of being burned by fire. He understood how important it was to protect the dragons.

Brienne, Jaime, Tyrion, Theon and Yara watched silently as the Dothraki, most mounted on horseback, some guarding the covered wagons, followed after their Khaleesi. The thunder of their horse's hooves caused the soft ground to tremble under their feet.

"Theon, we have to finish preparations," Yara reminded. "I want our ships ready to sail by sunset. We leave at first light tomorrow."

"What about the ships coming from Lannisport?" Tyrion asked. "When will they arrive?"

"They plan to leave today," Yara said. "They'll meet us near Maidenpool within a fortnight."

The Grejoys turned away to head for the docks. Brienne watched them with concern. She knew about Theon's defection and how it had led to Winterfell falling to the Boltons. But Theon had also saved Sansa from Ramsey Bolton and protected her until Brienne and Podrick were able to reach her. Rickon Stark and hundreds of Northmen had died recovering the Stark's ancestral home. House Stark was once again the Great House of the North, but at a terrible cost.

"How much of the Lannister army has returned?" Tyrion asked Jaime, drawing Brienne's attention back to the present and the massive khalasar marching north.

"We have nearly a thousand soldiers from the Crownlands," Jaime reported. "Troops from the Westerlands will take at least ten days to make it back to the capital. The Stormlands men will arrive in half that time."

"So, you'll have the army reassembled by the time we return from Dorne," Tyrion surmised. "We'll know then if we march north or south."

Jaime nodded soberly. "We'll be ready for either."

North meant the Lannister troops would join the battle against the Army of the Dead. South meant the southlands army would travel to Highgarden to repel a Dornish attack. Dorne would not believe nor join them in battle against the Army of the Dead. The best they could hope for was a delay in hostilities and pullback of their armies.

Brienne prayed Griff had a strategy for facing the threats that would come at him. She knew he'd bring more than a single ship to King's Landing. Even so, he was facing attack from three sides: the Dornish from the south, the Lannisters in the capital and Daenerys from the north. Griff was too smart to think he could just take the kingdom without resistance.

Jaime headed to the tourney grounds to meet with his officers. He wore his Lannister uniform since he was no longer a member of the Kingsguard. Tyrion and Varys excused themselves to return to the Red Keep. Only Brienne, the young dragons and the Queensguard were left to listen to the steadily fading rumble of the departing troops. The dragons watched the men with cold-eyed concentration but remained calm. They didn't see the guards as a threat to Brienne. The Queensguard, in contrast, shifted uneasily and kept their distance from the dragons. They has seen how dangerous the dragons could be to anyone they thought intending harm to their mother.

Brienne looked back into the city and hesitated. It was foolish to resist entering the capital. Keeping the dragons outside of the fortress walls wouldn't be enough to protect the five from the threat of _Dragonbinder_. Nor were the walls tall enough or strong enough to keep the dragons out, if they were taken by this horrible horn. The only mercy was the young dragons, with their limited fire range and power, could not create the devastating destruction Drogon and Rhaegal could.

She sighed and went inside the Gate of the Gods, the Queensguard following at a safe distance behind her. Smallfolk, congregating just inside the gates, moved away as the dragons rose over Brienne's head. More people than Brienne had anticipated were still gathered, all eager but also anxious at seeing the young dragons in their arrow formation, flying high above them. Some fell to their knees while others remained standing, watching with open-mouthed awe or fearful gazes, while many shied away, bodies tensed and ready to run at the slightest hint of dragonfire.

A young girl, no more than nine or ten, suddenly ran into Brienne's path. "Are you the greatest knight in the Seven Kingdoms?"

Brienne stopped and looked down at the child. She was dirty, dressed in rags with snarled dark hair. The little girl's filthy appearance didn't bother Brienne. She'd seen too many children like her in the Riverlands. What did alarm her were the bruises and scratches on the child.

The dragons came down, squawking threateningly. They circled Brienne, facing outwards, bodies puffed and wings outstretched, causing the crowd to push further away, but not the little girl. She froze in place and looked at the five with huge, terrified eyes.

"They won't hurt you," Brienne assured quickly. She knelt down and wrapped her arms around Catren and Allwyn. "They won't hurt anyone unless that person tries to hurt them or me."

The child blinked but the fear didn't leave her eyes. Still, she took a deep breath and spoke. "I hear the Septas talking at night. They said the Dragon Queen called you the greatest knight in Westeros. Is that true?"

"I am _a_ knight of the Seven Kingdoms," Brienne admitted. "But I believe there are many greater than me."

The little girl's face fell. "So, you can't help us?"

Brienne took a good look at the girl's injuries. As well as the cuts and bruises on her face, there was a long gash on her arm and she held herself off-center, as if favoring one leg over the other.

"What's your name?" Brienne asked gently.

"Cara," the child replied.

"Who hurt you, Cara?" Brienne asked quietly.

"A boar," Cara said.

Brienne frowned. "A boar? Do you mean like an animal, a wild boar?"

Cara nodded vigorously. "We were hunting rabbits in the woods. The boar came and we all ran. I ran and ran. I ran from the boar and I ran from the screams. We didn't get no rabbits and some of the brothers ain't come back yet."

"Cara!" A woman, dressed in the drab gown and veil of the septas, called from the crowd.

Brienne and Cara turned to look at her. The woman's face drained of color until she was almost white with fear. She looked down at the dragons then at the Queensguard standing out of the dragons' range, behind Brienne.

"I beg your pardon, my Lady, Ser," the septa cried. "Please, the child meant no harm."

Again, the septa looked past Brienne to the Queensguard. It was almost as if the woman feared the guards more than the dragons. Brienne turned her head to follow her gaze. The Queensguard had their hands threateningly on their swords, bodies tense, as if ready to cut through the crowd of thin, unarmed, underfed smallfolk.

"Cara did me no harm," Brienne assured the septa. "She merely asked for my assistance." She looked at Cara again. "Isn't that right?"

Cara nodded solemnly. "Can you bring the brothers back?"

A boar attack was a dangerous thing. The wild pigs had tusks that could tear a man in two. Their thick hide and natural speed made it hard to spear them. Many men had been mauled by them, including King Robert. But could a boar hurt a knight guarded by dragons?

"I don't know, Cara," Brienne answered honestly. "But I might be able to kill this boar. Where did you see it?"

Dusk had begun to settle by the time Brienne and the dragons came back into King's Landing. The five squawked overhead, delighted with the day's activities and their own performance. She led a line of horses weighed down with carcasses; wild boars, wolves, stags and some pheasants. Her intention had been to track down the boar but she hadn't anticipated the dragons' prowess at hunting. The five worked together in a manner that reminded Brienne of the disciplined, skilled actions of the _Golden Company_. Which only made sense, since Griff probably taught them to hunt to feed themselves and the company while they were in Valyria.

She came into the city by the Dragon's Gate, closest to Flea Bottom, the poorest area in the capital. The Gold Cloaks, as well as the people, quickly made room for her to pass. She stopped once all the horses were inside the gates. The Queensguard appeared out of the crowd as if waiting for her, shoving aside the small folk watching from a safe distance.

"Well done, my Lady Ser," Boros, the fattest and softest of the guards, praised her.

The dragons settled around her as Brienne removed her helm and brushed back her sweaty hair. She hadn't bothered to cut it since coming to the capital. The dragons liked it, often rubbing their heads against the blonde strands until her hair puffed up like a halo around her head. But it was a nuisance for actual fighting. Not that she'd fought anything since reuniting with the dragons. They wouldn't let any threat near her, not even a wild animal.

"Where is the child, Cara?' Brienne demanded.

"Back where she belongs," Osmund, another Queensguard, taller and fitter than Boros, muttered.

"We'll take the meat to the Red Keep, my Lady Ser," Boros offered.

Brienne looked at the thin, undernourished men and women mingling around the small market then looked back at the smug, well-fed Queensguard.

"This meat will not go to the Red Keep," Brienne denied. "It's for Cara and all the other children who are orphaned."

"But fresh meat always goes to the Red Keep," Boros explained. "The quality must be well fed to make wise decisions for the people of King's Landing."

Brienne looked at the armor that didn't quite cover Boros's thick midsection. The rest of the Queensguard was in better shape than him but none of them looked as if they'd ever missed a meal or been forced to subsist of 'bowls of brown' as the poor folks endured.

"The quality are already well-fed, Ser Boros," Brienne corrected. "Missing a meal or two will not change their 'wise' decisions for the people. This meat is for the orphans."

A murmur rose as the people began to whisper amongst themselves. Varys slipped out of the crowd, gliding across until he was as close as he could get with the dragons still surrounding her. The five looked at the Master of Whispers then returned to watching the crowd, knowing the Spider was no threat to Brienne.

"Cara's orphanage is in Flea Bottom, my Lady Ser," Varys explained. "But I recommend taking the meat to the small sept that serves the community. They provide meals for all in need, not just the orphans. Many are in need."

Brienne nodded. "Lead the way."

The dragons took to the sky again, causing the people around them to gasp in wonder and fear. She and the Queensguard followed Varys down steadily narrower streets. The stench, always strong in the city, grew more intense as the lanes became more crowded. But their path opened almost instantly when people spotted the dragons overhead. Brienne had begun to fear the streets would become too narrow for the horses when Varys finally stopped in front of a drab building surrounded by dirty awnings and shanties.

While their path ahead was clear, there was no shortage of people following them. The observers crowded the street behind them and well in front of them, watching the horses laboring under their heavy burdens with naked want in their eyes. Still, they retained a respectful distance, either out of fear of the dragons or in hopes of sharing the fresh kill.

The septon came out of the sept, his eyes nearly bulging at the sight of the fresh meat. "Seven blessings to you, my Lady," he praised.

Brothers clad in simple robes came out to relive the horses of their burdens. Several of the larger carcasses, of wild boars and stags, proved to be too much for the thin, frail brothers. Brienne stepped up to help but the dragons stopped her, keeping their careful guard around her.

"Help them," Brienne ordered the Queensguard.

The guards jerked, affronted by the order.

Brienne scowled fiercely. "Or would you rather guard the dragons while I help them?"

The five Queensguard eyed the five dragons with obvious concern. The men looked at each other, then Osmond led the others to the horses, careful to stay well out of the dragons' fire range.

"Well done, my Lady Ser," Varys murmured, watching the Queensguard struggle with the heavy burdens. "Very well done, indeed."

Brienne was about to reply when her attention was caught by a man at the mouth of a nearby alley. He was tall, with thick white flowing hair and a heavy beard of the same flowing white, giving the impression of a lion's mane around his face and the darkest skin she'd ever seen. But what really caught her attention were the red and orange flame tattoos inked across the man's forehead and cheeks. He wore the red robes of the followers of R'hllor and carried an iron staff topped with a dragon's head.

The man nodded at her and Brienne nodded back. She noticed the people around the man gave him a wide space, as if he were as dangerous as the dragons surrounding her.

"Rytsas, nyke Brienne," she greeted, using her limited High Valyrian.

The man smiled. "Hello, I am called Moqorro." He spoke the Common Tongue with only the slightest hint of an accent.

Brienne looked at his tattoos again. "Are you a priest of the Lord of Light?"

Moqorro nodded. "I am, my lady."

It's 'my Lady _Ser'_, you animal," Osmond corrected. He reached out to strike the priest with his armored hand.

"Stop!" Brienne ordered. "You have no cause to hit that man."

"He doesn't belong here, my Lady Ser," Osmond insisted, but stepped back.

The septon came to join Osmond. "The good Ser is correct, my Lady Ser. This man follows a false god, he teaches his worthless children to follow a terrible religion of blood and sacrifice. His kind do not belong among the good people of Westeros."

"Do you consider the dragons to be worthless, septon?" Brienne asked.

Quickly the septon shook his head. "No, of course not, my Lady Ser."

"I was born into the faith of the Seven. I am who I am today because of it," Brienne explained quietly. "But it was the Lord of Light who led me to the dragons and guided me safely back to the Narrow Sea."

The septon jerked back in shock and looked uneasily at Osmond. The knight looked back at the holy man with equal unease. The other Queensguard came to join them, keeping a safe distance away from the dragons. In turn, the dragons hissed, watching their surroundings and the White Cloaks with cold, steady regard.

"Then it was the Drowned God who gave us food and protection until the dragons had grown enough for me to leave them." Brienne looked around and saw the crowd watching and listening with rapt attention. She raised her voice. "Now it is the Old Gods who provide the meat to feed your children. This food the dragons provide is a gift from _all_ the Gods. They have all provided for the dragons and now the dragons provide for you. No one, regardless of faith, shall be denied a share of this bounty."

She looked around. The Queensguard, the septon, the brothers and even their audience were still, looking at the five and whispering amongst themselves. Brienne turned back to the Red Priest.

"The septon said you have children. Do you also care for orphans?" she asked.

Moqorro's expression tightened. "The children I care for are worse than orphans, my Lady Ser."

Bienne blinked. "What can be worse for a child than being an orphan, with no family to care for them?"

"Children whose parents deliberately throw them away," Moqorro explained gravely. "Parents who would rather their babies die in the streets than shame them in their homes."

"Shame?" Brienne repeated. Her heart began to pound at the sorrow in the Red Priest's eyes. "Where are these children?"

The priest hesitated, then looked from Brienne to the dragons surrounding her. Silently he turned away. Brienne followed him down the alley, ignoring the muck under her feet and the silent line of annoyed Queensguard following after her. The dragons flew overhead but still kept her in their fire range. They wound through narrow passageways until they ended up beside a tiny, torn cloth cover. Brienne bent down to look under the dirty awning. The heartbreaking sight caused her to gasp and nearly brought tears to her eyes.

A group of tiny, naked, dark-skinned babies laying listlessly on their backs, so starved they looked like living skeletons, peered back at her with dull, blank faces. The tears threated to from her eyes as the oldest, a small girl no more than two or three, instinctively raised her hands to protect her head and cowered away. Brienne blinked back her tears determinedly. She was a knight now. She would solve problems without tears, not matter how much a situation hurt her to witness.

The dragons landed around her, preventing her from reaching out to the children. She looked around frantically. There were other men and women around, under other covers and watching with dead eyes from a safe distance, but none of them approached. She looked back and saw the Queensguard push their way through the crowd.

"My Lady Ser, don't go near them," Osmond warned. "They're dirty."

"No more than anyone else," Brienne snapped back. "Gather them up. They're sick. They need to be taken to the masters."

"Maesters," the knight repeated. "The masters won't touch them either."

"It's the maesters' duty to tend to the sick," Brienne snarled. "These children need help."

"The maesters can't help them, my Lady Ser," Boros explained. "Their sickness is in their skin. The filth doesn't wash off."

Finally, Brienne understood what they were saying. They thought the children's skin color made them dirty. She looked at the children again but she didn't see their dark skin. Her blood-red fury nearly blinded her. The dragons hissed and puffed, attuned to her emotions. Their audience, including the Queensguard, moved away, also picking up on her mounting anger.

Brienne knelt and wrapped her arm around Catren. Keeping the dragons' leader calm would keep the rest of the dragons calm, as well. But she'd forgotten how intelligent and sensitive the five truly were. Gallan, standing beside Catren, shifted to allow Brienne to reach into the shanty just past their protective circle. She briefly hugged the blue dragon before holding out her other hand to the little girl. The child looked at the dragons and shrank away but there was nowhere for her to go.

Suddenly Allwyn folded in its wings and ducked under Brienne's hand. The blue-grey dragon, the one who always wanted to be held, gently brushed its head against the child's upraised arm. The girl's mouth opened on a silent shriek and she shuddered again. Allwyn repeated the gesture, waited, then touched the child for a third time. Finally, the girl lowered her arms and stared at the dragon, her trembling fear spilling out of her dark eyes.

Silence settled on the crowd as the dragons, minus Allwyn, shifted their formation as they faced their audience. They formed a defensive line, keeping Brienne and the children behind them, hissing at the people around them, including the Queensguard. Allwyn lowered its head almost to the filthy ground and moved closer to the frightened girl. It brushed its head against the child's arm a fourth time. This time the girl responded. She raised her hand, as if to touch Allwyn, then jerked her hand back, as if expecting to be hurt or reprimanded.

"It's alright, love, you're safe," Brienne crooned. "This is Allwyn. The dragon won't hurt you. You can touch it."

The child looked at Brienne, distrust in her dark eyes. Then she looked back at Allwyn, who held its wings close, making itself as small as possible. Tentatively, the girl reached out again. Allwyn shifted closer, decreasing the distance between them, so the girl's tiny fingers landed on its head. The girl jerked away at the contact but then held her fingers out again. The two seemed to make a game of it, the girl touching Allwyn for longer and longer while Allwyn patiently leaned in for each pat.

Brienne backed out of the lean-to and searched the crowd. The people had not moved, staring at the dragons with a mixture of fear and awe. She spotted the Queensguard, bunched together in a tight group, hands on their sword pommels, as they surveyed the smallfolk.

"Give me your cloaks," Brienne demanded.

Osmond leaned back, as if he feared Brienne would bodily strip him of the white cloak. "These are the cloaks of the Queensguard," he explained. "They symbolize our loyalty to the monarch. We will not besmirch them by shedding them in such an unclean area."

"You'd rather besmirch them with the blood splatters of helpless little girls?" Bronn taunted, as he pushed his way out of the crowd.

Brienne turned to look. Varys came out behind Bronn, followed closely by Podrick, Tyrion and Sandor. The council members looked at the Queensguard with loathing. They had also had bad experiences with the White Cloaks in the past.

"We're Kingsguard." Boros turned to face Bronn, his hand tightening threateningly on his sword. "I followed my King's orders faithfully."

"Your king was a cunt," Sandor growled. "And so are you."

There was a murmur from the crowd, as they looked between council members, the dragons and the guards. The tension rose as the dragons ignored the men they knew wouldn't harm Brienne to focus on the men they didn't trust. The five remaining Queensguard glanced at each other then shifted, watching the crowd warily.

"Lady Ser Brienne gave you an order," Tyrion reminded them. "She asked you to remove your cloaks."

"We serve the Queen," Preston insisted. "We don't take orders from upjumped knights."

"Well, that just breaks my heart," Bronn drawled. "I'd dirty your white cloaks for you but I don't want to set a bad example for my foster-dragons. They're very sensitive."

The Queensguard members looked uneasily at the four dragons, who puffed and hissed, their long tails swishing over the dirty ground.

Bronn shrugged easily. "See what I mean?"

"I'm Hand to the Queen," Tyrion said. "I'm ordering you to remove your cloaks."

"The Queensguard do not remove their cloaks," Boros insisted. "Our armor and our cloaks indicate we are White Cloaks, the greatest and most skilled warriors in Westeros."

Sandor snorted. "Cunts, the lot of you."

Tyrion looked at Sandor then looked back at the White Cloaks, disgust and loathing clear in his angry face.

"Well then," Tyrion said, his voice artificially pleasant, "we wouldn't want to sully your fine reputations. I had ample opportunity to witness your brave acts during my previous stays in Kings Landing. As of now, you no longer represent Queen Daenerys and are no longer in her service."

"You can't do that," Osmond protested. "The brotherhood is for life. We swore an oath."

"You swore many oaths," Tyrion snapped. "You also lied under oath. Remove your cloaks and swords, _now_."

"You can't do this," Boros protested, staring down at the Hand to the Queen.

"I can and I have." Tyrion crossed his arms and glared at the former Queenguard. "Remove your swords and armor."

The former Queensguard looked at each other then back at Tyrion. Bronn and Sandor put their hands on their sword belts.

"No!" Brienne cried, grabbing Gallan and Ardayn, the dragons closest to her. "No swords. Don't upset the dragons."

Bronn and Sandor froze, holding their hands splayed over their sword pommels and looked at the dragons. Tyrion and Varys also stood very still, also watching the dragons. Podrick hurried over to Brienne's side, slipping between Serdun and Catren and wrapping his arms around their necks to hold them. On both sides, the crowd moved back, pushing and shoving to get further away from the rising threat.

"Remove your swords very slowly," Brienne ordered the White Cloaks. "Then remove your armor. The dragons will consider you less of a threat without them."

Preston looked around. "You cannot expect us to face these people unarmed and unarmored."

"Big, strong men like you?" Bronn spoke easily even as he slowly moved his hand away from his sword. "You'll be fine. You're the greatest and most skilled warriors in Westeros."

"Do it now," Tyrion ordered, his voice lowering to a threatening hiss, "before I tell Lady Ser Brienne about what your brotherhood did to her dear friend, Lady Sansa."

"I already know," Brienne growled.

The dragons, picking up on her spiked emotions, hissed again and spread their wings, extending them to their fullest, reminding everyone they were the deadliest creatures in King's Landing. Almost immediately, the Queensguard began removing their sword belts. Brienne and Podrick kept tight holds on the four dragons while the guards unfastened their cloaks and unclamped their chest plates.

A moment later the five were down to shirts and breeches. Without the white-enameled armor to cover their flaws, their soft bellies and dissipated faces were left bare. These men, who had abused Sansa and sneered at helpless orphans, didn't deserve to be called knights. Brienne stared at them but didn't speak. The men looked around uneasily.

"Go," Tyrion snarled. "Run fast and never let me see you again."

The five men looked at each other, then the dragons, before turning to melt into the crowd. The dragons folded in their wings but remained on high alert, watching their surroundings with cold, assessing eyes.

Sandor went over to the pile of metal and cloth. He passed the sword belts to Bronn and the white cloaks to Varys. The Spider brought the capes to Brienne, glancing down at the dragons as he handed them over.

"Tear them in half, please," Brienne requested. "We need to swaddle the babies to take them to the maesters."

Podrick and Varys began tearing the white cloaks while Bronn and Sandor picked up the pieces of armor. Tyrion, now burdened with the sword belts, came to stand beside Brienne. His eyes widened at what he saw, from the starved, listless babies to Allwyn and the little girl snuggled together under the dirty awning. Brienne worked around the pair as she wrapped up the tiny, skeletal babies and passed them out to Podrick who carefully passed them over the dragons' heads.

"There's too many of them, my Lady Ser. We can't carry them all," Podrick pointed out.

Brienne crawled out from under the awning and looked around. Podrick, Varys and Moqorro held a babe in each arm. Bronn and Sandor held armor while Tyrion juggled the swords. There were still another four babies and the little girl to take with them.

"May I assist you, my Lady Ser?" a quiet voice asked from within the crowd.

The people separated to allow a large man, with a powerful form but a gentle face under a swirl of brown hair, pass into the center. Tyrion glanced up at the man, back to Allwyn then jerked back to stare at the man.

"Ser Balon?" he gasped.

"Lord Tyrion," Balon nodded his head politely. "It's good to see you again."

"Lady Ser Brienne, this is Ser Balon Swann," Tyrion introduced him. "This is a man who truly deserved to wear the white cloak. He was the only Kingsguard to speak in my favor at my trial." He smiled up at the big man. "I'd wondered where you'd gone."

Balon's face was calm and expressionless. "The Queen Regent found fault in my service. She took my cloak not long after you left the capital."

"I'm very sorry to hear it," Tyrion said, laying his burden of swords on the ground. "You chose to remain here instead of returning to Stonehelm?"

Balon shrugged. "I wasn't needed at House Swann. I was needed here."

Brienne hadn't missed how the crowd had parted for Balon. He hadn't pushed or shoved but the people had still moved aside to let him pass. Here stood a former Kingsguard who was treated respectfully by the smallfolk. She looked down at the dragons, who still surveyed the crowd intently but didn't seem alarmed by the big, burly former guard.

"Do you know how to hold babies, Ser Balon?" Brienne asked.

Balon shook his head. "No, my Lady Ser, but I do know how to hold armor and swords."

Bronn sighed with exaggerated patience and passed over his burden to the bigger man. "I guess that means I have to carry babies. A foster father's work is never done."

Brienne started at the recently anointed knight. "You know how to hold babies?"

"Aye." Bronn held out his arms. "You may not know it, looking at me now, but I wasn't born in a fancy house with nursemaids to wipe my arse. I spent plenty of time in places much like this."

Brienne quickly wrapped up the remaining babies and passed them out to Bronn and Tyrion. She tried to wrap up the little girl but she and Allwyn refused to part from each other. Finally, she draped the last bit of white cloth over the child's shoulders and picked up both dragon and child.

The crowd parted silently for them. Brienne had no idea where she was but Balon, now weighed down with sword belts and armor, moved forward with confidence. The remaining dragons took to the sky while Allwyn refused to leave its new friend. Tyrion looked up at Balon with obvious pleasure.

"Many things have changed, Ser Balon," the Hand assured him. "You might have noticed we're short a few Queensguard. Would you consider returning to the brotherhood, this time under a new queen?"

Balon looked down at Tyrion then at Allwyn and the little girl in Brienne's arms. Finally, he looked up at Brienne. He was almost her height, perhaps an inch or so shorter than her, but bigger and stronger than her. He held his mass well, his steps quick and deliberate. He smiled at her with obvious approval.

Brienne hesitantly smiled in return at the truly honorable knight. He was a man born into a noble house but had chosen to remain among the most needy and desperate in the poorest, most dangerous area of the capital. A man who served the people when he was no longer allowed to serve the king.

Ser Balon was the type of man Griff needed to have around him. Too many men accepted orders from their kings simply because they were from the king. They deluded themselves into thinking they were honorable because they served the ruler. But bad rules gave bad orders, from Aerys the Mad who burned men alive with wildfire to Joffrey the Cruel who had his Kingsguard beat Lady Sansa. A good king allowed those he trusted to offer advice and knew when to temper his own actions. Those who protected the king might have occasions to protect the king from himself.

"I was proud when I was chosen to wear the White Cloak, my Lord," Balon answered softly. "But the brotherhood was not what I'd hoped it would be. I despaired for the people of this city. Now I see great potential for the future. But I have found a better way." He looked directly at Brienne. "I choose to serve with those who serve with honor."

Tyrion's face fell and he shifted the babies to more comfortable position in his arms. Balon didn't attempt to shift his heavier load, using his strength to his advantage. Bronn, Podrick, Varys and Moqorro followed silently after them, close enough to follow their conversation.

"You will serve with honor," Tyrion assured him. "Your new queen is a woman of compassion and strength."

"A woman of compassion and strength," Balon repeated, looking again at Brienne, "is exactly what this city needs, my Lord."


	29. Succession Keeper

The Keeper

Chapter 29: Succession Keeper

"Come, love, have another bite," Brienne coaxed, holding out a chunk of sweet plum out to the little girl.

The baby, small and fragile, could not walk on her own though she tried mightily. The dragons fixed that problem for her. They took turns sitting beside her, allowing her to hold and even lean on them as she moved from place to place.

"My Lady Ser, she's not used to eating so much," a woman in a simple, homespun gown looked up from the baby she held to her breast. "None of 'em feed much."

Brienne stopped watching the baby and looked up at the wet nurse in consternation. She and the dragons had stayed in the maesters' quarters with the babies and Moqorro for the previous day and night. Though the maester had ordered the babies be washed and properly swaddled, Brienne didn't trust him with the children's safety. The dragons had kept the surly old man behaving politely and properly but it was the quiet and gentle wet nurses who truly cared for the helpless infants.

"But they won't become healthy without eating more," Brienne protested, looking at the woman with concern.

"They've been without a mother's teat for too long," the woman explained. "They can't hold milk."

The wet nurses were seated on the far side of the room, behind a partially closed curtain. The dragons stayed away from the woman, and the two others who'd tried to nurse the babies, knowing they had no evil intentions. Still, the woman was tense and anxious as she watched the small child leaning heavily on the dragons.

"What can we do?" Brienne demanded, looking over to the Red Priest.

"Comfort them as they return to their Lord." Moqorro looked sorrowful. "I have been in King's Landing for four turns of the moon. In that time, I've eased more than a dozen babes' passing. I cannot feed them. I simply assure they don't leave this world alone. It's the cycle of life and death."

"Are you saying we can't save them all?" Brienne stared at him in horror. "What about oldest? She's not newly born. She's almost walking."

"Aye," the woman agreed. "That one had her mother, at least for a time. She doesn't need to nurse. Most likely, a customer didn't like her and the mother had to throw the babe out or they'd both starve."

The baby, whose skin was the dark cream color Brienne had often seen in the ports of Essos, had most likely been born to a whore. Though slavery was forbidden in Westeros, she knew there were places that catered to every perversion, often buying and smuggling in slaves from Volantis to meet the demand. The poor mother had tried to raise this sweet child but the prejudices of Westerosi society had refused to even see their suffering.

Brienne had asked Moqorro for the little girl's name but he'd only shrugged and shook his head. The child was gentle, quiet and, now that she knew the dragons were her protectors, inquisitive. The maester stared at the baby as she made her slow way around his chambers but didn't speak a single word of objection. But no sane man would dare object when the dragons were clearly taken with the babe. Having the dragons so near caused the old man to tremble so much, Brienne worried he's soon need medical help himself.

"She must have a name," Brienne insisted. "A name gives her an identity."

"What would you like to call her, my Lady Ser?" Moqorro asked.

Brienne blinked. "Me?"

"You are the reason this child has food and protection." Moqorro smiled his sad smile. "She's too young to choose for herself or object to the name you select."

The baby, frail and weak, had tired from her walk. She was curled up on the floor, Allwyn and Gallan on either side, keeping her warm and safe. Brienne put down the plum and scooped up the little girl. The baby looked back at the dragons but didn't object to being in Brienne's arms.

"I've been calling her 'love' because she's so sweet," Brienne murmured. She looked back at Moqorro. "What is the High Valyrian word for 'love'?"

"Jorrāelagon, my Lady Ser," the priest said.

"Jorrāelagon," Brienne repeated. "That's too long a name for such a little babe. Shall we call her Ela until she grows into it?"

Moqorro nodded in consent. Brienne looked down at little Ela. The baby looked back at her, with her dark eyes round and wide and her small thumb creeping into her mouth. Brienne took her to the dragons. Catren, Allwyn and Gallan watched them while Ardayn and Serdun remained on guard duty. She knelt down with Ela in her arms.

"Jorrāelagon," Brienne announced, holding the baby out for them. "Ela."

Catren and Gallan squawked in agreement. Allwyn, the first to befriend Ela, began their patting game, brushing its head against Ela's arm. The baby waved her hand, happily playing with the most dangerous creatures in King's Landing. Moqorro, the maester and the wet nurses watched them nervously, fear and caution visible in their eyes.

The main doors opened. Brienne looked up to see Balon and Tyrion enter. Brienne rose, Ela in her arms. The knight, despite his highborn birth, wore rough homespun cloth and a sword, wide and shiny, hung from the twisted leather belt at his waist.

"Hello, Lord Tyrion, Ser Balon," she greeted.

"Good morning, my Lady Ser," Balon greeted her, smiling warmly. "It's good to see you again."

"Good morning, Lady Ser Brienne," Tyrion also greeted her, but his mouth was set in a flat, serious line.

Brienne's pulse quickened at seeing his expression. "Is there a problem, Lord Hand?"

The Hand to the Queen surveyed the room, from Brienne still half-crouched on the floor, to the dragons clustered around her and Ela playing the patting game with Allwyn. Ardayn and Serdun looked at Tyrion expectantly, as if waiting for him to speak. Moqorro, the wet nurse, the maester and his assistants all stiffened, tense and expectant.

Tyrion shook his head but his features remained strained. "No, not at all. However, there is an important matter I wish to discuss with you, if you have the time."

Brienne hesitated and looked down at Ela in her arms, then at the babes resting on cots or in the wet nurse's arms. While the wet nurses and Moqorro would take care of the babies, she had no such faith in the maester or his assistants.

"Ser Balon is eager to visit with the children," Tyrion added smoothly. "I'm sure they'll enjoy visiting with him as much as he has been looking forward to seeing them so safe and well cared for. Isn't that right, Ser Balon?"

"Indeed, it is, Lord Hand." Balon answered Tyrion but looked at the maester with a cold smile. "It gives me great joy to see them so well."

Balon gave the maester a cool, steady stare. The maester looked from the dragons to Ser Balon and swallowed visibly. Still, he managed a weak smile and busied himself with his medical equipment. His assistants clustered around him, while the wet nurse studied Balon with interest. Brienne relaxed. Balon would ensure the children were safely tended to until she returned.

"Very well, my Lord." Brienne reluctantly handed Ela over to the Red Priest.

Tyrion smiled at the little girl as she settled in the priest's arms. He put his hand out. Moqorro bent down to allow Tyrion to stroke Ela's soft, warm cheek. His hand touched the priest's arm. Moqorro gasped and pulled back, his gaze suddenly blank and vacant.

Tyrion jerked his hand away and stared at the Red Priest. "Pardon me. I meant no disrespect."

Moqorro turned his head to look at the Hand of the Queen but his gaze was unfocused, as if he were looking inward.

"Take care, son of Tywin. I see what's to come. Dragons old and young, true and false, bright and dark. And you." Moqorro spoke in a flat, lifeless voice. "A small man with a big shadow, snarling in the midst of it all."

"What? How?" Tyrion gasped.

Tyrion stumbled back as if Moqorro's words had hit him with the force of a physical blow. Brienne watched the blood drain from the youngest lion's face.

"Are you well, Lord Hand?" Balon asked with concern.

"Yes, I…I am," Tyrion nodded but his face remained pale. "Ser Balon, please remain with the children. Lady Ser Brienne, will you walk with me?"

Tyrion turned and hurried out of the room, not waiting for Brienne to join him. She frowned and looked to Moqorro. The Red Priest blinked and the blank expression cleared from his face. He smiled his sad smile and straightened with Ela in his arms. He nodded at them politely and walked over to the cots. Brienne smiled at the sweet baby and Ela smiled back, her skeletal arm raised as if to wave to her.

Balon remained at the door until the dragons rose from the floor, following after Brienne. Then he went to stand by the windows, careful to stay out of their way. Tyrion left the maester's chambers and was hurrying towards the central, most secure buildings in the Red Keep. Brienne caught up with him then shortened her stride to match his. The dragons rose above their heads, squawking loudly to announce their presence.

"My Lady Ser, do you know how many men Queen Daenerys has in her armies?" Tyrion asked as they walked.

Brienne frowned. "I hadn't given it any thought, my Lord. However, based on the khalasar I saw yesterday, she has almost thirty thousand bloodriders."

"Actually, she has nearly one hundred thousand people in her khalasar," Tyrion corrected. "She left the women, children and nearly half of the men in Essos."

Brienne gasped softly. "That many?"

"Do you know why she left most of them behind when she came to Westeros?" Tyrion asked then answered his own question. "She left them to protect those who rule the Bay of Dragons in her name."

"She also has the Unsullied," Brienne pointed out. "That's another ten thousand soldiers."

"Eight thousand fully trained soldiers and five thousand still in training," Tyrion corrected. "The two greatest armies and most powerful warriors in Essos."

He walked very fast, faster than usual. Brienne barely had to shorten her steps to match his pace. Tyrion looked back nervously at the building they'd left. It was almost as if he was running away from the maester's chambers.

"Our armies are great and powerful, too," Brienne reminded him. "If they weren't, we wouldn't be so concerned about Dorne and the Vale."

"The Dornishmen and the Knights of the Vale have homes to return to." Tyrion looked grave but didn't slow his pace. "Have you considered what will happen to the Dothraki and the Unsullied after the war?"

Brienne studied the tight set of his features. "No, Lord Hand, I haven't.

Tyrion shook his head. "Over forty thousand foreign warriors have poured into Westeros and it's all my fault."

"Your fault? Why are we discussing fault? Has something happened? Have you heard word from the marchers?" Brienne gasped and stopped walking. "Have they been attacked?"

Tyrion, now several paces ahead of her, laughed but it was without humor. "The Dragon Queen travels with two fully grown dragons. Who would dare attack the Mother of Dragons?"

"The Night King," Brienne declared, her voice flat. "He's already taken Viserion."

Tyrion nodded. "Yes, he has a dragon and Daenerys Targaryen has two dragons."

He hadn't altered his pace so Brienne again lengthened her strides to catch him. They walked through a series of hallways and came out in a sunlit courtyard. The dragons flew up towards the sun then swept back down to them, enjoying the warmth of the sunshine on their outstretched wings. Beneath their feet, an enormous map of Westeros had been painted on the floor.

"This area is called Maegor's Holdfast," Tyrion explained. "Cersei had this map painted in preparation for war with Queen Daenerys. My sister, being who she is, had it scaled to be twice the size of the Painted Table at Dragonstone, therefore it's the largest map in all of Westeros."

He walked into the center of the courtyard, stopping when he stood on the Neck, over the Twins. Brienne's stomach twisted. Those were the castles of House Frey, where she and Jaime had been caught by Locke and his men, where King Robb and his family had been slaughtered and where an unknown female assassin had murdered the entire Frey male line.

Brienne came to join Tyrion, standing on Harrenhal and the Isle of Faces. "Lord Hand, you said you had something to discuss with me?"

She was starting to become concerned of his manner. This was not the cool, collected Hand to the Queen she'd come to know. Tyrion would not meet her gaze and appeared nervous, ill at ease. Had it been the Red Priest's strange, toneless words that had caused this odd reaction in the youngest lion?

A soft scrape caught her attention and she turned to the sound. Varys slipped out of the shadows and came to join them. Brienne looked overhead to the dragons soaring lazily in the sunlight, flying high then coasting back down. They were keeping watch over her, as usual, but weren't alarmed. Whatever had disturbed Tyrion had not yet upset them. Varys stopped at the Bite, just above the Vale, on the painted floor.

Tyrion turned to face the former Master of Whispers. "Are we secure?"

Varys nodded. "Almost."

"What's going on?" Brienne demanded. "Why have you brought me here?"

"This is the safest and most secure place in the Red Keep." Tyrion answered her second question first. "I brought you here to discuss a matter of grave importance."

Brienne looked from Tyrion to Varys then back again. The Hand to the Queen sighed while the Spider looked at him severely. Varys shifted but didn't speak.

"My Lord?" Brienne prompted.

"I'm sorry," Tyrion blurted out.

"What?" Brienne stared at him. "What are you sorry for, Lord Hand?"

"For the anger and vengeance I held in my heart," Tyrion confessed. "For the lies I told to satisfy that vengeance and for the death and destruction I've brought to Westeros."

Brienne looked to Varys for clarification. The Spider fought to keep his expression to the usual blank calmness he normally displayed. The corners of his eye's tightened and his jaw was stiff, betraying his anxiety. He looked at Tyrion silently, waiting for him to continue.

"I don't understand what you're saying, Lord Hand." Brienne's own back began to stiffen as Tyrion's grim expression melted into sorrow and regret.

"I'm the reason Daenerys came to Westeros," he confessed. "I'm the reason over forty thousand invaders are on Westerosi soil and I'm the reason dragons rule King's Landing."

"But that's what we wanted. We're grateful to her. Queen Daenerys has agreed to help us in the battle against the Army of the Dead," Brienne insisted. "We need her men and her dragons to fight this terrible enemy."

"Brienne," Tyrion's voice became sharper, "I didn't bring Daenerys here to help save Westeros. I brought her here to burn it to ashes."

"You're not making sense. Daenerys doesn't want to be Queen of the Ashes," Brienne argued. "She said so herself. She sacrificed Viserion to fight the Night King, she took King's Landing without killing a single innocent and she's marching north with her armies to help King Jon."

Brienne stared at Tyrion, at the man who wore Daenerys's Hand of the Queen pin. He had advised his queen against taking King's Landing with fire and blood. He had counselled her to allow the Northmen to mine dragonglass from Dragonstone. He had even risked his own life to sneak into the capital to arrange a parlay with the sister who wanted his head. Now that same man was telling her he hadn't had honorable intentions, had planned to allow the Dragon Queen to destroy King's Landing and everyone in it?

Tyrion shook his head. "Yes, that's where we are now but back then…" He paused and took a deep breath. "When I left Westeros, I was enraged. My own family had falsely accused me of killing Joffery, horror that he was. The Kingsguard, the fine lords and ladies of the realm, my own father and sister had lied about me in order to bring about my destruction. I swore publicly to have my revenge on all of them."

"You killed your father before you left," Brienne reminded him. "You took your revenge on him."

"I did." Tyrion nodded. "Then I went to Essos and did everything in my power to bring the Seven Hells down upon King's Landing. Daenerys wanted to go to Volantis, to free the slaves there. I convinced her to cross the Narrow Sea, to bring blood and fire to my enemies."

Brienne looked at Varys. "You knew about this?"

Varys inclined his head. "I watched it happen but I didn't understand why my friend was acting as he was. Fortunately for us all, he was able to overcome his anger."

"What changed your mind, Lord Hand?" Brienne asked Tyrion.

The guilt changed to anguish as blood flushed his cheeks and tears came to his eyes. Tyrion blinked rapidly to clear his vision. He took a deep breath before he spoke again.

"Tommen and Mrycella. I loved them, I truly did." Tyrion's voice broke. He paused to regain his control. "When I heard about Mrycella's death, I realized fire and blood wouldn't discriminate. Yes, all those people who'd borne false witness against me would die but so would Tommen. He was innocent and he was kind. He would have been a great king."

Suddenly the dragons descended. They formed a straight line and hissed angrily. Brienne now understood their different formations. They circled around her when they were protecting her from an unknown enemy, used their arrow formation when they were prepared to strike out in her defense and a straight line when they wanted to separate her from a threat. She looked up and wasn't surprised to see Jaime at the far side of the courtyard, standing in the shade under a set of pillars.

"Why are you telling me this, Lord Tyrion?"

She asked the question to Tyrion but watched Jaime. He was dressed in his Lannister uniform, his spine locked straight, his expression as sad and strained as Tyrion's. The Hand turned to look at his brother. Tyrion nodded but Jaime didn't return the nod. He continued to stare steadily at Tyrion, not surprised by his little brother's words. The two must have had discussed this between themselves before Tyrion approached her.

Tyrion turned back to Brienne. "Have you heard the expression 'every time a Targaryen is born, the Gods toss a coin and the world holds its breath' Lady Ser Brienne?"

Brienne nodded. "Yes, of course. But I've seen no madness in Daenerys."

"Yet." Tyrion stressed the word. "I've seen what she's capable of doing. I was there for the second siege of Meereen. Then I watched as she and her bloodriders slaughtered the Lannister army on the Gold Road. She is a Targaryen. They take what they want with fire and blood."

"But I've seen no madness in her," Brienne repeated. "I've seen her in private, where she's free to be herself, away from her duties. She has great ambitions, yes, but no madness."

"Because of you," Varys said softly.

Brienne frowned at the former Master of Whispers. "What? Me? What have I done?"

"You share her blood," Tyrion answered. "She came to Westeros as the last of her bloodline, a foreigner to the land she was born in and an invader to the castles her ancestors built. You've changed her into the leader of the new Targaryen dynasty, a returning champion and the queen the people need to defend their homes. More importantly, you've shown her there is someone she can trust to manage and even expand upon what she's already created: her armies, her kingdom and even her dragons. You are what pushed her away from the isolation, the grief and the madness."

Brienne could only stare at Tyrion, speechless. Then she recalled her conversation with Jorah in the Throne Room while releasing the Valyrian steel swords from the Iron Throne.

"_There's a fine line between grief and madness," Jorah explained, his gravelly voice pitched low. "She's much closer to that line than many others. But you have steadied her, pulled her further away from that line then she's been in all the time I've known her."_

_Brienne lowered her eyes, unable to meet the devoted knight's gaze. Guilt tightened her throat. "Your queen is a good woman."_

"_With many enemies and traitors plotting to bring her down." Jorah leaned closer to meet her gaze. "She needs those who love her to stand by her side, guard her back and light her way. You, Lady Brienne, have illuminated her path. I thank you for it."_

Brienne looked down, her face flushing at the grave expression on Tyrion's face. The dragons, sensing her spiked emotions, hissed as they looked around for a threat. Finding none, the five broke their defensive line and began to spread out in the courtyard. Jaime still stood at the far end of the courtyard but the dragons chose to ignore him. Ardayn settled on the portion of the map that depicted Dorne, home to Starfall, birthplace of Ser Arthur Dayne. The dragon, named after Jaime's idol, was only meters away from elder Lannister lion.

"What are you saying, Lord Tyrion?" Brienne asked quietly.

Tyrion sighed. "Lady Ser Brienne, there are only three possible outcomes to this war. The first is that the living win and Daenerys remains Queen of the Seven Kingdoms. In which case, I'll guide to make the best possible decisions for Westeros. We'll decide what to do with her armies."

Brienne nodded. She hadn't considered what would happen to the converging armies, regardless if Daenerys led them or not. Did it make sense for the Unsullied and the Dothraki to remain in Westeros? The Unsullied were famous for the cold-blooded discipline while the Dothraki were equally known for their hot tempers and bloodlust. How would the armies of Westeros view them when they no longer had a common enemy to bind them together?

Varys spoke up. "The second outcome is that the living will lose and dead take over Westeros. Then, your duty will be to take your young dragons to Essos."

"What?" Brienne recoiled. "You want me to desert the people in their time of need? How can I leave Westeros if the North falls?"

"How can you save Westeros if the North falls?" Tyrion countered. "If the combined efforts of the northern armies, the Dothraki, the Unsullied, the southland armies, the _Golden Company_ and two fully grown dragons cannot stop the Long Night, then what more can a single knight with five young dragons do?"

Brienne gasped, nearly losing her breath at Tyrion's blunt words. She hadn't considered what would happen if the Night King and his army wasn't stopped.

"_A great and terrible night will soon overtake the lands, including the Iron Islands. We must all, men and Gods, work together to protect the people."_

She remembered what the saltwater priest had said to her at the beginning of her journey in Essos. He had _warned_ her of what was coming and told her how to protect the people. The Gods were working together with the armies of men. They guided her and she did her best to follow their guidance.

"Lady Ser Brienne, something stopped the Army of the Dead the last time they marched south," Varys reminded her. "The Wall was erected and the threat was contained for thousands of years. Perhaps you or the great minds of Essos will find a way to make Westeros prosper again. If not, your dragons may have grown enough to protect the cities of the Essos from the Long Night."

Brienne's mouth fell open in dismay. She'd sworn her dragons would never been used in the wars of men. But the Night King was no ordinary man. His army might overwhelm even the Gods' protections. If so, then the dragons would be humanity's last hope to stop the Army of the Dead. She looked down at the dragons. They had settled around her, their wings outstretched to take advantage of the warm sunlight, aware of her anxiety but comfortable in their surroundings. They knew Tyrion, Varys and even Jaime were no threat to her, despite her spiked emotions.

"The third outcome is that the living will defeat the dead but Queen Daenerys is lost in the war." Tyrion fixed her with a hard, clear glare. "In which case, you must step forward and become Queen of Westeros."

"Me?" Brienne gasps. "I can't be queen. Have you lost your senses, Lord Hand? I'm a knight. My duty is to serve the people, not rule them."

"Isn't that why you follow your king?" Jaime spoke for the first time. "You said he was a man who served the people and not ruled them. That was your definition of a 'just' king."

Suddenly, Brienne's anxiety lessened so quickly, she was almost light-headed. Jaime was right. She already served a just king. King Aegon the Sixth Targaryen thought he'd lead a unified and powerful Seven Kingdoms. His intention was to save Westeros from unjust rulers. Was this the Gods' plan? Was Griff supposed to lead the survivors of the Long Night?

"Yes," Brienne agreed quietly. "My king will lead the people. He's the one the citizens need to guide them to a great and glorious future."

"No, he's not," Tyrion said bluntly.

"What? You just said he was." Brienne stared at Tyrion.

"Jon Snow won't leave the North." Jaime stepped closer, his eyes hard and determined. "He'll die with the Northmen rather than live without his people."

"Even if he didn't perish in the fighting, he wouldn't be able to lead the Dothraki," Tyrion added. "Remember, only thirty thousand bloodriders are here. What if the next Khal decides to bring his khalasar to Westeros, not to help, but to enslave the people?"

"Why would he?" Brienne demanded. "The Dothraki have never been interested in conquering the Seven Kingdoms before."

Jaime came closer still. "We've never joined nearly all of our armies before. Even if we defeat the Army of the Dead, we'll suffer heavy casualties. Dorne is already enraged and has close ties to the free cities of Essos. The Vale has chosen to pull out of the upcoming battle. Westeros will be vulnerable as it has never been in all of history."

Jaime was now standing at the edge of the map painted on the floor. He and Brienne both looked down at Ardayn. The silver-blue dragon had spread its wings, absorbing the sunlight, as it looked back at the Lord Commander. The dragons had never allowed Jaime this close before. Were they finally warming up to him, since he hadn't repeated his harsh words to Brienne?

"Do you know how Daenerys won over the bloodriders and became Khaleesi of the Great Grass Sea?" Tyrion spoke up, regaining her attention.

Brienne shook her head.

"The Dothraki follow the most powerful leader, the one able to defeat all other khals in combat," Tyrion explained. "Daenerys was separated from us after an ambush in Meereen. She was found by a khalasar who decided to take her with them to Vaes Dothrak, their capital city. There was a meeting of all the greatest khals of the Dothraki Seas. They decided she should stay in their capital to live out her days with the other widows of dead khals. Daenerys disagreed. So, she decided to take over the khalasar. How do you think she did it, Lady Ser Brienne?"

Brienne didn't know but she understood the sentiment Tyrion was trying to convey. "With fire and blood?" she guessed.

"Yes," Tyrion agreed. "She's the Mother of Dragons. No man, no khalasar, and no army can stand against a dragon."

"_What am I without my children?" she demanded. "They are all I am."_

"_They are not all you are, Khaleesi," Jorah insisted. "Were your dragons at your side when you went to Vaes Dothrak? You entered the Temple of the Dosh Khaleen with no dragons, no army, no advisors and emerged the Khaleesi of the Great Grass Sea. You are Daenerys Stormborn of House Targaryen. You have overcome too much to doubt yourself now."_

Brienne recalled their meeting in the _Chamber of the Painted Table_. Daenerys had been sick with grief, with the loss of Viserion still fresh. She'd been inconsolable before the five had come to Dragonstone to bring hope back to the heartbroken Mother of Dragons.

"That's not true," Brienne insisted. "Ser Jorah said she entered the Temple of the Dosh Khaleen with no dragons, no army and no advisor but still emerged as Khaleesi."

"Do you really believe Daenerys was able to beat all the great khals without her dragons?" Jaime demanded. "You've seen her bloodriders. She couldn't defeat them all in open combat."

"You expect me to fight bloodriders in open combat?" Brienne gasped.

"Well, you did beat the Hound," Jaime reminded her. "No one, other than you, has ever done that."

"But no, you don't need to battle them in open combat," Tyrion reassured her. He moved away from her, going to the far side of the map, near the Westerlands. "Your dragons will ensure no one gets close enough to challenge you. You, as Queen, can manage the bloodriders. They will follow you or return to Essos, as you command, as will the Unsullied."

Brienne hadn't even considered what Daenerys's armies would do after Griff came to take his rightful place as the King of the Seven Kingdoms. Tyrion had said the Dothraki followed the strongest khal, the one who defeated all others in combat. Did that mean Griff would have to battle Daenerys to take control of her bloodriders? No, that wouldn't happen. The young dragons would protect Griff like they protected her. They would not allow anyone to harm him. Daenerys could not battle him. Griff would assume command of the remaining bloodriders and Unsullied without bloodshed.

"But the greatest threat to a weakened Westeros is the dragons," Varys said quietly. He backed away, until he too was off the map.

The dragons to move closer, circle around her. Brienne looked down at them. The five were calm, their reptilian eyes shifting from person to person, as if following the conversation. They had returned to their circle formation, but now in a relaxed fashion. As she watched, they shifted to lie on the floor with their wings spread, nearly touching each other. They were aware they were the most dangerous creatures in King's Landing and comfortable in their surroundings.

"My dragons only harm those who try to hurt them or me," Brienne insisted. "They don't attack people without provocation."

"Your dragons don't but what about Drogon and Rhaegal?" Tyrion asked. "They're trained in battle. Who'll control them if Daenerys is no longer here?"

"I can't," Brienne insisted. "They don't follow me."

"No, but they do follow your dragons. Drogon and Rhaegal went with you when you took them from the Dragonpit into the Red Keep." Tyrion reminded her.

"But that was because of the young dragons, not because of me," Brienne protested. "Drogon and Rhaegal won't follow me."

"These young dragons follow you and the big dragons follow them," Varys summarized. "That's far better than allowing them to roam without any ties."

"Brienne, I know it sounds scary," Jaime said, still standing tall and strong, so close he could almost touch Ardayn's wing. "But we've discussed it over and over again. Controlling the dragons is the key to controlling the future. Westeros may need you to become the Protector of the Seven Kingdoms. There's no one else who can manage the dragons."

There was someone else. Someone ready and trained to be king, who understood the needs of the people and would save and serve them when they most desperately needed him. Only she knew a hero was coming to save all of Westeros. Griff hadn't arrived yet. Until he did, she had to keep his existence hidden. That's what loyal knights did; they kept their king's secrets.

I cannot become Queen," she said quietly. "The people won't support it."

"Actually, Lady Brienne, you're the one person the people _will_ support," Tyrion disagreed. "The North will support you because you pledged your sword to Catelyn Stark. King Jon has said, repeatedly, that House Stark stands behind you. You've shown them loyalty and they will return that loyalty, especially after the Long Night."

"The Stormlands will support you because you're one of them," Varys added. "It honors them to have a Stormlands queen. Plus, your father, the Evenstar, Lord of Tarth, is well-liked."

"The Iron Islands will support you because Yara Greyjoy leads them," Jamie continued. "You'll have the Westerlands support because Tyrion and I stand behind you. The Dornish have not yet selected their Prince, but he'd be a fool to oppose you."

Tyrion walked up the steps to the balcony as he spoke. "The Dothraki, the Unsullied and the people of the Bay of Dragons will accept you as the natural successor to Daenerys. You share her blood and she has openly claimed you as her kin."

He stopped and looked around, as if searching for something he'd misplaced. Then he looked over the balcony, down at her and the dragons.

"Hmm, am I forgetting anything important?" Tyrion paused and pretended to think, tapping his cheek for emphasis. "Oh yes, how could I forget? You have _dragons_. Who would stand against you?"

Brienne shook her head. They made it sound so easy, as if she only had to declare herself and all of Westeros would fall at her feet. But thousands had already died to choose their own king, to fight the War of the Five Kings. She'd watched King Renly murdered by the red witch's shadow demon, had personally executed Stannis Baratheon for the crime and had mourned when she'd heard about the death of Lady Catelyn alongside Robb Stark. She'd been present when Joffery Baratheon had been poisoned, watched Euron Greyjoy burn and had witnessed Cersei Lannister lose King's Landing.

People died and people killed to decide who sat on thrones and were given the power to rule them. Simple declarations didn't make men kings, anymore than drinking wildfire made them dragons or building thrones fifteen feet high made them Gods.

Brienne shook her head again. "No, I can't be queen. It's not my place."

"Are you sure?" Tyrion waved his hand over the courtyard. "Look around you, Lady Ser Brienne. From where I'm standing, it certainly looks like it's your place."

Brienne looked around, confused, but finally understood what Tyrion had indicated. She stood in the center of the map painted on the floor. The dragons were gathered in a circle around her, their outstretched wings almost touching. The only part of Westeros visible was the God's Eye, just under her feet.

The dragons had covered every inch of Westeros.


	30. Legacy Keeper

The Keeper

Chapter 30: Legacy Keeper

Brienne looked down at the young dragons covering the map of Westeros. They faced outwards, towards Jaime, Tyrion and Varys, but they were calm and relaxed. They didn't see the three men as threats. But they weren't the ones these men were trying to persuade into making a terrible mistake.

"Is that the only consideration, Lord Hand?" Brienne asked quietly, looking up from studying the dragons.

Tyrion blinked. He looked down from the balcony to Jaime and Varys in the courtyard below. From the corner of her eye, Brienne could see the two exchanged furtive glances. Neither spoke so she kept her gaze on Tyrion.

"I don't understand." Tyrion frowned and again glanced at Jaime and Varys. "You can control the dragons. That is the only consideration necessary."

"I know nothing about being a queen," Brienne pointed out. "I've had no exposure to politics, no skills at mindless chit-chat, no experience as a battle commander nor do I have the patience to listen to overindulged lords complain about their taxes."

"You needn't worry about any of those details," Tyrion assured her. "Your council is responsible for the daily details. Your Hand will manage the politics and speeches, the Master of War will be your battle commander and the Master of Coins will worry about taxes."

"Then what will the queen do?" Brienne demanded.

Tyrion shrugged. "You will rule."

"Rule?" Brienne repeated, trying to keep the skepticism out of her voice. "What does it mean to rule?"

"The queen's advisors gather the information necessary for her to understand the issue and lay out the options before her." Tyrion explained smoothly. "But you will make the final decisions."

"I see," Brienne said. "A wise ruler selects a council she trusts then takes their advice on how she should rule the kingdom."

Tyrion smiled. "Exactly."

"And you want me to be that queen because the dragons listen to me," Brienne concluded. "Is that correct?"

Tyrion nodded and smiled, appearing pleased she grasped things so quickly.

"But what will you do if I'm so busy ruling your kingdom that I don't have time to care for the dragons?" Brienne asked.

The three men stared at her, their eye's widening and bodies stiffening. Varys was the first to recover. He pressed his hands together and glanced at Tyrion before smiling at Brienne.

"We wouldn't allow that to happen, my Lady Ser," he assured her. "We'll make sure you have all the time you need for your most important duty."

"_You'll_ make sure," Brienne clarified. "You'll limit the important decisions I'd have to make to ensure I have time to manage the dragons? The only way you could do that is if you made the lesser, unimportant decisions for me," she pointed out. "Then I would only have to concentrate on the truly important matters, correct?"

"Correct." Tyrion turned to walk across the balcony to the steps. "Your council will manage the mundane matters and only bother you with the most important decisions."

Now all three nodded, their tension easing. Brienne's heart began to pound as she tried to absorb the enormity of their appalling idea. This was their plan for the future of Westeros? They wanted to put a person without experience, proper temperament or the support of the people as their new figurehead? Had they learned nothing from the reigns of Cersei, Tommen and Joffrey? A ruler who had no connection to the people, who didn't understand how to help them or even what they needed could never effectively rule.

At least Robert had tried to surround himself with intelligent, honorable people. But Robert's arrogance, bitterness and gluttonous appetites eventually overwhelmed him. Even the smartest Hand to the King was powerless if the King didn't understand his advice, assuming the advice was good.

An inexperienced ruler has no way of telling good advice from bad. What kept that Hand focused on the welfare of the Seven Kingdoms? Tyrion had already admitted to plotting to destroy King's Landing. Brienne believed he'd truly loved his niece and nephew and was affected by their loss. But they were gone and he'd returned to Westeros as the Hand to the new queen. Now he was plotting to take power from behind the throne. Could any man walk away from a vengeance that was so tantalizingly close?

The dragons, sensing her growing unease, began to raise their bodies and fold in their wings. They were still relaxed but now on guard. Jaime, Varys and Tyrion glanced down uneasily at them but stood their ground.

"Who decides which matters are most important?" Brienne paused but they didn't speak. "For that matter, if my sole purpose is to manage the dragons, then why even have me as queen, Lord Hand? Your great council can _rule_ while the dragons and I return to Tarth."

Brienne's eyes narrowed as Tyrion nearly stumbled on the first step. Fortunately, he had a good grip on the bannister and righted himself. The Hand to the Queen took careful, deliberate steps down the stairs. Brienne suspected he was composing his thoughts as he descended. Did he truly think she would go along with their terrible idea? But then Tyrion was a Lannister, the one most like his father, despite how Lord Tywin had felt about his dwarf son. Wanting the crown of the Seven Kingdoms, and the power that came with it, was in his blood.

Varys and Jaime exchanged silent glances again. They didn't speak as they waited for Tyrion to join them. They appeared to be stunned that Brienne was questioning their brilliant plan. The dragons sat up, still calm but definitely interested in the emotions swirling around them.

"Westeros will have just emerged from the Great War," Tyrion explained, giving her that same charming but false smile she'd seen on the serpent, Petyr Baelish. "The Seven Kingdoms will be weaker than we've ever been. The dragons are the most powerful weapons we have."

"The dragons are not weapons," Brienne snarled. "I will not allow them to be used in the wars of men."

"The war would be over," Tyrion said patiently. "They won't go near a battlefield but we have so many enemies, both within the Seven Kingdoms and in Essos. Leveraging the dragons ensures the safety of our people."

"How?" Brienne demanded. "The dragons are not battle trained. How do you plan to leverage them?"

"The same way we'll do so in Dorne," Tyrion explained. "Once the Dornish see the dragons are very real and Daenerys is already using them to defend the North, Dorne will back down. It will be no different after the Great War."

"It will be completely different, Lord Hand," Brienne argued. "The Dornish may back down now, after seeing these young dragons, but it's Daenerys and her dragons they fear. If we lose her in the Great War, Drogon and Rhaegal will be a threat to all of Westeros. I have no influence over them."

"No one will know that," Tyrion assured her. "I'll convince our enemies that the dragons follow you. There's no need to worry, Lady Ser Brienne. I'll guide you."

"You'll guide me." Brienne repeated. "I needn't worry because _you_ will be in charge."

"Yes," Tyrion nodded. "I've done this before, in Meereen. I know how to handle this."

"So, that's what this is about." Brienne nodded. "You want to show the lords of Westeros what a fine leader _you_ are. You want them to see, after the mistakes of your sister, your nephews and even your father, you're here to save Westeros. Moqorro was right in his warning."

"What do you mean?' Jaime looked from Brienne to Tyrion then back to Brienne. "Who is Moqorro?"

Tyrion flushed but didn't speak. Brienne didn't miss how rigid his posture became. She had struck a nerve. Tyrion was indeed thinking of his own power and not the future of Westeros.

"Moqorro is a priest I met yesterday," Brienne explained. "Lord Tyrion and I were with him this morning. He gave Lord Tyrion a warning."

"What did he say?" Jaime asked.

Brienne didn't look away from Tyrion as she spoke. "He said 'Take care, son of Tywin. I see what's to come. Dragons old and young, true and false, bright and dark. And you. A small man with a big shadow, snarling in the midst of it all.' He foresaw our parlay in Dorne, didn't he?"

"How could he?" Jaime protested. "We haven't even finalized our plans."

"A small man with a big shadow, snarling in the midst of it all," Brienne repeated. "That's what you want, isn't it, Lord Tyrion? You want to cast a shadow across all of Westeros. You know the people will not tolerate another Lannister ruler, not after Cersei's terrible reign, so you'll lead from the shadows."

"The priest spoke gibberish," Tyrion insisted. "He described some of the dragons as false. How can that be? None of them are false."

"He meant me. I'm the false dragon!" Brienne hissed. "I was born of the bastard Targaryen line. Every other living Targaryen, from the humans to the dragons, have blood from both King Aerys and Queen Rhaella. Even Drogon and its children, these five, have Rhaella's blood in their veins. I'm the only false dragon."

"But you can't be false," Varys protested. "You can command dragons."

"So can the person who has _Dragonbinder_," Brienne hissed. "Or have you forgotten there is someone out there who may have a weapon that enslaves dragons?"

Again, the three men exchanged concerned glances. This was proof that they hadn't thought out their plan. They hadn't even considered the terrible threat held over the dragons. Jamie looked down at the five then looked away. Varys unclasped his hands and nodded.

"My Lady Ser, Bronn, Podrick and Sandor are searching diligently," he reminded her, "as are my little birds. You may rest assured we'll find this villain."

"Rest assured?" Brienne gasped. "Lord Varys, I have not rested, I have not _slept,_ for more than a few moments at a time since I found out about that terrible horn. Every time one of the dragons twitches, I wake with my sword in my hand. I live every moment in fear, not knowing when they'll be taken from me. Instead of focusing on convincing citizens with your brilliant plans, my Lords, focus on finding this horror that may enslave dragons."

Brienne's voice broke but she didn't care. Anyone in her situation would be emotional, knight or not. She was terrified, she was exhausted and she was _furious_. The dragons, her gift from the Gods, whom they'd _entrusted_ to her, were in danger. Tyrion wanted to become the new power in Westeros, use his political cunning to forge a new world. That vision would never come to pass if the dragons were enslaved.

Even if _Dragonbinder_ wasn't a threat, there were many others. They wanted to crown a false dragon and present it to the people. They thought their illusion would appease the citizens and make them forget their queen was only a cloth dragon. But a cloth dragon had no power other than the power of deception. How could they rebuild a kingdom with deceptions and lies? The dragons, the _real_ dragons, moved closer to Brienne, keeping their circle around her, picking up on her spiked emotions.

"Whoever has the horn can only use it for a few hours," Jaime pointed out, his voice calm and gentle. "The horn will kill them. They cannot enslave the dragons for long."

"Not true," Brienne countered. "Did Euron blow the horn himself? No, ordered his men to do it for him. If they'd taken the dragons, he'd tell them how to command them then allow his men to die for him."

"But very few men are that blindly loyal to their leaders, to men like Euron Greyjoy," Varys protested, "that they'd be willing to die for them."

"Enough will," Brienne countered. "There are men so blindly devoted to those they choose to serve, they'll kill and they'll die for him." Her gaze shifted to Jaime. "Or for her."

Jaime jerked and took a step back, his eyes widening. His face flushed, his expression a cross between guilt and denial.

"Ser Jaime was devoted to Cersei. He was willing to do anything for her happiness. He murdered his own cousin in his attempt to escape Robb Stark and return to her. When his sister ordered him to march on the Tyrells, he did." Brienne held Jaime's gaze, refusing to let him ignore his own complacency in Cersei's crimes. "He led his army to slaughter men who, only weeks earlier, were also under his command."

"The Tyrells had betrayed the Queen," Jaime insisted quietly.

"Cersei wasn't their queen, Margaery was," Brienne corrected. "The Tyrells never turned against Margaery. They loved her, as did most people in King's Landing, except your sister. The Tyrells turned against Cersei because she murdered their Lord, their heir and the Queen of the Seven Kingdoms. So, yes, Lord Varys, there are people so blindly loyal, they will sacrifice themselves to ensure their master's power. One of those people may have this horn."

"Lady Ser Brienne, I understand your frustration and your fear. We're doing everything we can to find _Dragonbinder_," Tyrion attempted to soothe her. "We all want you to have your dragons. That gives you the ultimate power."

"Lord Hand." Brienne turned away from Jaime to glare at Tyrion. "I wasn't raised in the capital or immersed in political intrigue from my cradle as you were. Still, I understand that power is dangerous. In the wrong hands, power can be devastating."

"We'll find that horn," Tyrion vowed. "No one will have the dragons but you. There is no one better than you to have power over dragons."

"I wasn't talking about the dragons," Brienne snapped. "I was talking about _you_."

Tyrion's whole body jerked. "What? Me?"

"Yes, you," Brienne confirmed. "Your family destroyed itself, and many others, in your pursuit of power. Your father ordered the sacking of King's Landing. Thousands of innocent people were raped, beaten, mutilated, murdered and left destitute because Lord Tywin wanted power in the new reign. He died with _your_ bolt in his chest."

Tyrion had no response to that. He looked at Jaime briefly before lowering his eyes. Jaime let out his breath on a sharp hiss but said nothing. Brienne continued to glare at Tyrion.

"Joffery was so bloated with power, he ordered Ned Stark's beheading, despite the wise advice of his council," Brienne continued. "How many thousands have died since the North demanded its freedom? Joffery was so hated, even you didn't shed a tear when he was poisoned."

Brienne turned to look directly at Jaime.

"Cersei was so controlled by her lust for power, she destroyed the Sept of Baelor," Brienne reminded him ruthlessly. "She killed not only her enemies, but all the fine lords and ladies your brother so hated. She also killed scores of innocents and goaded her son, _your_ son, into taking his own life. Now she's locked up in her elegant chambers, wearing the crown she destroyed so many to have, completely out of her wits."

Jaime shuddered and closed his eyes, but not before she saw the grief darkening the wildfire green to almost black. He pressed his lips together and shook his head, still silent. His pain pierced her but he had to accept the truth. Ignoring or hiding from problems would not solve them. Brienne took a deep breath to calm herself as she turned back to Tyrion. The Hand's chest rose and fell rapidly with his ragged breaths.

"Take care, Lord Tyrion," Brienne warned him quietly. "Only you and your brother remain of your once-great dynasty. You're both now working to mend your relationship. Learn from the lessons of your father, your sister and your nephew. Power is false and it is fickle. It will seduce and it will devastate. Don't succumb to the lust for power that destroyed the rest of House Lannister."

Tyrion, Jaime and Varys were quiet when she finished. Her words were harsh but they were the truth. Tyrion had fooled himself into believing he was only interested in what was best for the Seven Kingdoms. But power in the hands of the few, without proper restraints, led to terrible outcomes. Kings who held themselves above other men and even Gods, lords who ordered whole cities to be ravaged and council members who would use innocents to wage their wars.

The dragons, who had remained calm during Brienne's tirade, suddenly began to squawk and look around anxiously, their wings extended and flapping. Catren and Allwyn soared into the sky, circled, then called down to the others. Serdun and Ardayn stayed with her, while also flapping their wings, but Gallan rose to meet them. Catren and Allwyn flew in wider and wider circles while Gallan coasted back down to her.

Brienne pushed her hair back, but the wind from their wings tossed it back into her face. Her blood pounded so hard she could hear it in her ears. Was it the _Dragonbinder_ calling them? No, it couldn't be. Ardayn and Serdun remained at her side and the other three were still close. Why were they so anxious? The last time she'd seen them circle like this was in the Dragonpit, when they'd come to find her at the parlay. Were they warning her of an oncoming threat?

"What is it?" Jaime had his hand on _Widow's Wail_ as he turned in a circle, looking into the shadows. "Is someone there?"

Brienne also looked around, trying to find the threat that had alarmed the five. No, that couldn't be it. If the dragons sensed she was in danger, all five would have circled around her. Catren and Allwyn were still airborne while Gallan flew between them and her, squawking urgently. They were trying to get her away from the courtyard. Did they want her to leave Maegor's Holdfast? If so, why? What would cause the dragons to want to herd her away from the courtyard?

A chill slide down Brienne's spine. Not what, but _who_. Who did the dragons care enough about to alert her to another person's need? Who had the dragons spent the morning with, who was weak and sick and needed constant care?

"Ela?" Brienne called out. She looked down at Serdun and Ardayn, who were still with her, despite their obvious agitation. "Jorrāelagon?"

Ardayn and Serdun also began squawking at hearing the baby's name. Had something happened to Ela or the other children? Were the dragons telling her to go to the maester's chambers? Brienne didn't hesitate. Ardayn and Serdun rose as she turned and ran out of the courtyard and through the hall that led out of the private chambers. She ignored Jaime calling out to her and focused on the five.

Once they exited the hall, the dragons spread out and formed their arrow formation. Instead of turning for the maester's chambers, they headed out of the Red Keep. Brienne ran, heedless of the people scrambling out of her way, or rather the dragons' way, clearing a path along the Hook, towards the River Gate. Her heart pounded double time as she realized they were taking her to Fishmonger Square.

_Podrick_.

Podrick was down at the square, asking the merchants there, and at the Fish Market just outside the gate, about the missing _Dragonbinder_. Had he spoken to the wrong person? Or to the right person who didn't want her young squire asking questions? Brienne berated herself as she ran. Why hadn't she considered how dangerous this mission was? Podrick was bonded to the dragons but they'd remained with her. He had no protection but his sword and his wits.

She was breathless and panting by the time she got to the busy square. Brienne was forced to stop to regain her breath. A collective shudder went through the crowd as the dragons descended. The Gold Cloaks milling through the crowd immediately unsheathed their swords. They dropped them on the ground, stepping on the blades to show the dragons they were no threat to them. Merchants and their customers quickly followed their example, some removing their swords while others dropped their sword belts altogether.

Brienne knew swords weren't the only weapons hardened sailors kept on their person. She'd seen Griff strap knife sheaths to his thighs and forearms before they'd gone into ports. His sword belt had a length of fine wire threaded into it. The wire could be pulled out in seconds to be used as a garrote to strangle and slice into an enemy's throat. He even had a slim sword sheath strapped to his back, under his shirt, to hold the needle-thin rapier he wore against his spine.

"Where's Podrick?" she demanded of no one in particular.

The people looked at each other then back at her, or rather, at the dragons surrounding her. Their faces were blank and they shrank back in fear. Serdun, Ardayn and Gallan surrounded her, their focus outward, while Catren and Allwyn remained in the sky, flying in widening circles. Brienne looked up at them. They were able to follow her scent, and Drogon's scent, from miles away but the capital was dense with bodies and smells. Could they separate Podrick's scent from everyone else's?

"Brienne!"

She looked over to see Jaime pushing out of the crowd, panting as heavily as she was. A few feet behind him, she saw Bronn also making his way forward, but not panting for breath as they were. That meant Bronn was already in the market when she arrived. His usual sardonic expression was missing, making the knight look uncharacteristically serious and solemn. Was Podrick with him?

"Where's Podrick?" she demanded.

The former sellsword looked around, as if expecting her squire to magically appear beside him. He looked back at her and shook his head. His brow furrowed and his shoulders noticeably tensed.

"I haven't seen him since morning," Bronn reported.

"Is he outside the gate?" Brienne asked, "in the Fish Market?"

Bronn turned to look at the River Gate. "I don't know."

Gallan screeched and took to the air. Brienne looked up. Catren and Allwyn had begun to reform their arrow formation as Gallan joined them. Brienne ran down River Row as Serdun and Ardayn rejoined the others above her head. People threw themselves into alleyways or pressed against walls to give her and the dragons a clear path.

She didn't stop running until she was near the King's Gate. Catren and Allwyn pulled away from the others and dove into the crowd milling around the stable and southern entrance. People screamed and cried as they ran from the dragons. Brienne unsheathed _Oathkeeper_ before she'd even come to a full stop. The Gold Cloaks stationed at the gate gasped and dropped their swords, backing away as Catren and Allwyn landed, screeching in warning.

Only one man remained under the King's Gate, standing very still. He was dressed in dull breeches and a brown cloak, unremarkable from any other traveler, except that the dragons had singled him out. Catren and Allwyn screeched again as they faced him. The tall man wore a hood that covered his head and obscured his face. Brienne held her sword in a two-handed grip.

"Show yourself!" she ordered.

Ardayn and Serdun landed beside Brienne, facing the crowd, extending their wings and hissing, their bodies puffed, reminding the people of how dangerous they truly were. Gallan remained in flight, hovering between her and the hooded man, as if unsure where to go. The Gold Cloaks were equally confused, looking from her to the dragons then back to her, waiting for direction. The people, unable to escape the crowded square, trembled visibly and shrank against the walls.

Catren and Allwyn, still screeching madly, extended their wings and turned away from the man to face the shocked, cowering crowd. No one approached them but the dragons puffed, making it clear to all that the man was under their protection.

"My Lady Ser!" Podrick pushed his way out of the densely packed crowd. "I'm here."

Brienne looked over to her squire, standing safe, healthy and whole. She gasped, overwhelmed by the myriad of reactions hitting her at once. Relief that Podrick was safe, the receding terror that she might have failed him, the physical ache from the muscles tight with tension and the adrenaline rush from the blood pumping too fast in her veins. Her heart still pounded, aware that a momentous change had just occurred.

"My Lady S –" Podrick broke off as he looked past her and his eyes widened.

Brienne turned back to the hooded man then looked again at Podrick. Like Gallan above her, she didn't know which one to go to. The Gold Cloaks looked from the man to Catren and Allwyn squawking angrily at them as they protected him. Almost as one, the guards looked over to her with Ardayn and Serdun, protecting her in the same manner, hissing warningly to keep the crowd away from her. Above their heads, Gallan cried out, flapping its wings furiously. The man spoke, finally making the decision for all of them.

"Gallan, māzigon naejot issa," he called.

Brienne shuddered and stilled, every nerve throbbing, every sense hyper-aware. Heat rushed through her at the sound of that voice; deep, smooth, commanding and familiar. She knew it, remembered it reverberating through her thoughts and dreams for the past five months but could hardly believe she was truly hearing it.

_Griff was here._

Gallan wasn't held by the disorientation that had gripped her. The blue dragon threw itself at its father with such force, Griff was forced to take a step back. He caught the dragon against his chest. The motion tossed his body back and the hood fell off his head.

_It wasn't Griff._

Griff had bright blue hair that danced around his shoulders, blue eyes so dark they were almost black and a smile that always coaxed her to smile in return. This man had thick silver blond hair, cropped close at the neck and swirling around the crown, falling over eyes such a deep blue they were almost purple and was so beautiful she had to look away from him.

Aegon Targaryen had arrived in King's Landing without his army or fanfare. If it weren't for the dragons surrounding him, the heir to the Seven Kingdoms would have entered unnoticed into the city his ancestors had built. He knelt to release Gallan and hug Catren and Allwyn, who were still guarding him. Then he crossed the market with long, familiar, ground-eating strides. In seconds he was in front of her.

"Hello, Brienne," he said quietly. "Have you missed me even half as much as I've missed you?"

He smiled at her. It was that smile, crinkling the edges of his eyes, warm and familiar, that broke Brienne's transfixion. She breathed in so deeply it was almost a gasp. _Oathkeeper_ fell from her nerveless fingers, falling harmlessly to the ground beside them. He was close enough that she could feel the heat pouring off his body, smell his scent, and hear his deep, steady breathing. She opened her mouth but couldn't form words.

"No?" His smile deepened. Suddenly, he looked like Griff again, grinning at her from under an unfamiliar fringe of silver-blond hair. "I missed you."

The dragons screeched and squawked, pressing against them, pushing them closer. The five had formed a circle around them, still facing the crowd, wings extended, lethal bodyguards with fire in their mouths. Their attention, however, was divided between their duty and mindless joy.

Brienne nodded at Griff or tried to. Then it was too late to react. He pulled her into his arms, wrapping her close and bending his head to bury it in her neck. She'd forgotten how tall he was, taller than her. She closed her eyes as another shudder passed through her. Images from the past five months played behind her eyelids.

The memories were sharp reminders of the path she'd taken, of what she had done and what still must be done. She'd successfully navigated months of duty in the cold of the North, the dragons' taking of King's Landings and helped steady Daenerys, their most powerful warrior in the battle against the Army of the Dead. But greater challenges lay ahead of them. Their rapidly compiling problems threatened to suffocate her.

_Dragonbinder_ was the terror that had destroyed her sleep, but there were many other concerns to manage. The Night King could unleash his Army of the Dead at any time, once he'd raised Viserion and breached the Wall. Making sense of the vague, multi-layered prophecies would test Griff's knowledge of history, language and cultures. The upcoming parlay with Dorne would require all of their skills at diplomacy and his army, while the worry about Daenerys's desire for further conquest, Ela and all the orphans of war, starving people in desperate need and Tyrion's mad plan for installing her as Queen required a clever mind and a calm disposition. How were they to manage all their problems?

_Their problems_.

It wasn't her problems anymore; it was _their_ problems.

Brienne exhaled as she slumped against Griff, releasing the tension, letting him take her weight, physically and symbolically. She wasn't alone in her battles anymore. No longer would she have to tell half-truths and omit details to hide her true alliance. She would have support to deal with the pressures that made sleep elusive and rest nearly impossible. Finally, she could share her burdens. A hero had arrived to save the Seven Kingdoms.

King Aegon the Sixth Targaryen was finally home.


	31. Duty Keeper

The Keeper

Chapter 31: Duty Keeper

Brienne allowed herself just that one moment to relax her guard, to ignore the pressures that robbed her of sleep and denied her rest. But that was all. She was a warrior, a knight of the Seven Kingdoms. She would not allow others to see her weakness, no matter how much the dragons protected her or how heavily her king was armed. She didn't return Griff's embrace but she was pressed close enough to him to feel the blade sheaths strapped underneath his nondescript clothes. She pulled away from him and gestured down to the dragons.

"Ardayn and Serdun," she murmured, gesturing to the two who hadn't left her side, not even to greet their own father.

Griff frowned as she stepped away from him but readily knelt down to embrace her most ardent guards. Brienne took the moment to reach down for her sword. She straightened and sheathed _Oathkeeper_ as the dragons leaned away from her, into Griff. Just holding her sword reminded her of her duty. She was a knight of the Seven Kingdoms, an instrument of the God's will and the keeper of their dragons. A warrior did not falter when faced with adversity.

"Sȳrī gaomagon, Ardayn, Serdun," Griff praised as he pulled Ardayn and Serdun close.

Like Brienne, they accepted his embrace and rested their heads against his shoulders, but only briefly. They quickly returned to their guard duty, aware this was not the time nor the place to display their love and relief at having Griff back with them. They understood duty must always come before personal desire.

Brienne studied her king as he rose, light and graceful in his usual water dance style, but with the careful control that confirmed he was armed and prepared to be dangerous. She didn't see a sword hanging from below the hem of his cloak but she was sure his rapier was strapped to his back. That made sense. A man trying to blend with his fellow travelers would be well-armed but won't carry a highly prized Valyrian steel sword. Griff's expression, while as controlled as his movements, didn't betray any hint of aggression. In fact, his grin reappeared as he looked into the crowd.

"Podrick!" he called. "It's good to see you again."

Podrick grinned in return and separated from the crowd. In seconds, her squire crossed the way and grasped Griff's outstretched arm, clasping the king's forearm as warriors did. Podrick's eyes widened slightly but the alarm quickly gave way when Griff used their grip to pull Podrick closer and slapped him lightly on the back. The dragons shifted aside to allow Podrick into their circle of protection then closed their link.

"It's good to see you, too, Gr—" Podrick stopped, his face flushed with an embarrassed color. "I…I'm not sure what to call you now."

Griff shook his head as he released Podrick's arm. "We'll sort that out later, Pod. For now, we should allow all these good people to return to their business."

Unsaid was that Griff should be taken away from the busy, crowded marketplace. His entrance was sudden and unplanned. He'd tried to hide his identity by covering his silver blond hair and wearing dull, homespun cloth. However, the dragons instant defense of him, along with his ease with them, had given him away.

Brienne looked past him, beyond the gate to the Gold Cloaks staring at them. The guards had retrieved their swords but kept their distance. They looked from the man with Targaryen coloring to the dragons guarding him with the same ferocity they displayed when guarding Brienne. They had determined he was another dragon not to be questioned or approached.

"Did you come alone?" she asked quietly. "Why is there no one protecting you?"

"No one even noticed me until the dragons," Griff explained softly. "I was no more likely to be attacked than any other traveler."

"And better armed than most," Podrick added, also speaking in a hushed voice, his gaze drifting down to Griff's arms. "You're wearing dagger sheaths."

"More than that, young Podrick." Griff grinned again. "I'll show you when we have time. Now, we need to leave this market before we attract trouble."

Griff looked around at the guards, shopkeepers, stable boys and citizens watching them with stark expressions. Some looked terrified, focused on the dragons, wary of their fierce protective instinct. While none of the dragons had attacked the citizens of King's Landing, their reputations were well known. Drogon had slaughtered the Lannister forces and little Gallan had burned the Ironborn King who'd threatened Brienne and Daenerys.

"That's unlikely," Podrick assured quietly. "People are afraid of the dragons but they know they'll only attack if provoked. Plus, the dragons and my Lady Ser provided meat for the hungry, gave comfort to the sick and aide to the defenseless. The people know they're here to protect them."

Podrick beamed at Brienne, not attempting to hide his deep pride. Brienne looked down, flushing at the compliment. She smoothed down the sides of her modified gown. Daenerys had left the day before but the dresses continued to arrive. This one was Stark grey with thick Targaryen red borders and black breeches.

Her embarrassment gave her an excuse to turn away from Griff and Podrick. She looked up to orientate herself and found herself staring into shocked, wildfire green eyes. Jaime stood across the road from her, visible in the crowd because of his Lannister uniform, dumbstruck as he shifted his gaze to stare at Griff. Brienne closed her eyes briefly at seeing the ashen color and disbelieving expression on Jaime's face.

She hadn't considered what it would do to Jaime to see the living image of Rhaegar Targaryen. Unlike most, Jaime had known Rhaegar personally and had even interacted with him. In fact, he'd last seen Rhaegar before he went into battle at the Trident. Rhaegar had died at Robert's hand, then Aerys had died at Jaime's hand. Worse, Elia and Rhaenys had died on Tywin's orders while Jaime has sat on the Iron Throne, unaware of their brutal deaths.

She knew the instant Griff saw Jaime, felt the tightening of his body beside her, heard his harsh indrawn breath. Griff used his right hand to reach into the sleeve of his left arm. Brienne knew what he intended to do and grabbed his hand in both of hers. Griff looked at her, the rage and bloodlust darkening his indigo eyes to almost black, but didn't try to break free from her.

"My Lady Ser?" Podrick questioned. "What is it?"

His eyes grew wide when he saw the knife sheath exposed on Griff's left forearm. Brienne had Griff's throwing hand in both of hers but he was fast enough and strong enough to break her grip if he wanted to. He could send the blade into Jaime's gut before anyone had time to draw breath, let alone draw a weapon against him.

But then no one, not even Bronn, would draw a sword against a man protected by dragons. Griff could just as easily walk across the road and casually slice open Jaime's throat as he could throw the blade. Jaime would bleed out in the dirt with no one, but Brienne, willing to protest or defend him. She turned back to Griff.

"You are the King of the Seven Kingdoms." Brienne's quiet voice, pitched low to avoid being overheard, was half insisting, half pleading. "You cannot begin your reign by killing a man without provocation."

"He sat on my grandfather's blood-soaked throne while his father's dog tortured and murdered my mother and sister," Griff snarled. "That's enough to provoke any man to kill him."

"Their deaths are among his greatest regrets," Brienne insisted. "You are a just king. You must not put your own emotions before the needs of your people."

Griff turned to stare at her. Under the fringe of unfamiliar Targaryen silver-blond hair, his now clearly purple eyes were as cold and as hard as she'd only seen once before. He'd displayed the same snarling anger when he'd confronted her about the impulsive stupidity of jumping onto the burning pirate ship. Fortunately, like that time, his rage didn't control him.

"We have him," Podrick chimed in, still eyeing the blades. "Gregor Clegane, we have him in the black cells."

Griff became even more rigid but he looked away from Brienne to stare at Podrick. Podrick tore his gaze away from the wrist sheath to nod solemnly.

"He's alive?' Griff asked softly.

Podrick hesitated. "I'm not sure. His body moves but he has no free will."

Griff looked back to Brienne, his eyebrows raised, as if silently asking for more information. The dangerous darkness began to fade from his eyes. She slowly released his hand and stepped away. Griff shook his left arm to shift the material, allowing it to fall back over his wrist and hide the blades. He didn't look towards Jaime again.

"We need to talk," Griff said, glancing at the crowd again. "Your scrolls left out a great many details. I need to know exactly what's been going on here."

Brienne nodded eagerly. She needed to separate Griff and Jaime until she could be sure the king wouldn't kill the man who was the reason she still lived. Plus, there was so much Griff didn't know about. Her most recent carefully worded scrolls would not have reached him. He was unaware of the threat of the horn, Cersei's breakdown, Qyburn's connection to her mother's family, Tyrion's plotting, the march to Harrenhall or the regathering Lannister army. War was coming at them from all sides. They could not allow their own grievances to tear them apart. Griff, of all people, needed to be calm and level-headed. She needed him to be their leader and make sense of madness surrounding them.

She turned down River Row to begin the walk back to the Red Keep. Her long legs covered ground quickly but Griff caught up with her in only a few strides. The dragons squawked as they took to the air above their heads. Podrick was only a few steps behind then, his shorter legs working at twice their speed to keep up with them.

The crowd parted as they approached, then closed behind them as they passed. Because whispers flew on wings as fast as dragons, the names 'Rhaegar' and 'Aegon' were on everyone's lips as they passed. Unlike her blind, terrified run to the King's Gate, the trip back to the castle was measured and sedate. As usual, people made way for Brienne, and the dragons over her head.

She noticed the people were calmer now, less frightened by the dragons. They had seen one Targaryen, with dragons at her back, free them from Cersei's madness. Another Targaryen marched with the King in the North, vowing to protect all of Westeros from a threat they didn't understand. Now a third Targaryen, the living image of the Prince of Dragonstone, had also come to King's Landing. Griff's startling resemblance to his father made his identity apparent to all. More citizen bowed than ever before, looking at Griff more than the dragons.

Griff seemed unaware of their reverence, his gaze sweeping over the dirty streets, neglected courtyards, ramshackle vendor stalls and the tired masses of people in the capital city. The ports of Essos had also been crowded and worn, but not as dirty or neglected as King's Landing. His mouth tightened as he surveyed what had become of the city his ancestors had built up from a simple fort to the capital of Seven Kingdoms.

"The city's a mess and it smells disgusting," he noted. "Half the people are visibly sick and weakened."

Brienne shuddered, thinking of Ela and the orphans. The babies were with the maester now, but all of Westeros was in desperate need. The people were still hungry, still living in shanties and still without the help they needed. Even worse, the dead would soon march on the living, perhaps forcing many of the living to succumb to the Army of the Dead.

She sighed. "There hasn't been enough stability in the kingdom to focus on city planning. War has forced the people to crowd into the capital for some protection. It wasn't built to hold this many people. There isn't enough food to feed the people, let alone coin to clean sewers or repair damage from the last attack."

"The Lannisters were more interested in waging wars than in caring for the people," Griff concluded. "How have they managed to stay in power for so long?"

"Most of those who fought the Lannisters are dead," Brienne reminded him. "Whole houses have been wiped out while the Riverlands still seep blood."

"Now the Lannisters have also fallen." Griff didn't bother to hide the pleasure in his voice. "By a single agent, acting alone?"

"He wasn't working alone," Podrick explained. "Lord Qyburn was able to twist Cersei Lannister to do his work for him."

"An intelligent and resourceful man," Griff praised. "I'd like to meet him."

"He marched with the forces going north," Podrick explained. "He thinks he can help them in the battle against the Army of the Dead."

"Lord Qyburn is loyal to the Starks," Brienne cautioned. "He's sworn himself to Jon Snow, the King in the North."

"The Bastard of Winterfell," Griff said thoughtfully, "who went from being a lesser son to Lord Commander of the Night's Watch then the King in the North. Quite a lofty rise from bastard to king."

"It's not so different than your own," Podrick suggested. "From a carefully hidden war survivor to secret Commander of the _Golden Company_ to the King of Westeros. I think you and King Jon have a lot in common."

"Perhaps," Griff agreed.

The walk to the Red Keep took three times longer than her terrified run. The slower pace allowed citizens to come out of their homes and shops, to hang out of windows or peer over rooftops, to witness the return of their true king. The dragons flew over their heads, squawking occasionally but mostly silent in their guard duties. Their formation so tight and their actions synchronized, it was almost as if they were on show.

"Sȳrī gaomagon, zaldrīzoti," Griff grinned as he called up to them.

Brienne's heart fluttered as she realized the dragons _were_ showing off for Griff. They were so brave and loyal, she sometimes forgot how young the five were. They hadn't been in the world for even eight months yet. Griff had taught them how to guard. It must have taken him months of patience and repetition to teach them so well. They'd spent hours practicing to be able to act with the same polished teamwork as their father's men. No child, especially after an absence from their beloved parent, could resist the opportunity to demonstrate how well they remembered his teachings, to earn their father's admiration and praise.

They faced no resistance as they passed through the gates of the Red Keep. The Lannister guards stepped back and crossed their arms behind their backs, making it clear they had no intention of drawing their swords. Nobles, citizens, servants and guards watched silently as Griff crossed the courtyard. He led their group, as the dragons flew overhead, to mount the steps into the castle that was the seat of the Seven Kingdom's power, and had been since his ancestors had first conquered Westeros. Without direction, Griff turned for the Throne Room.

"Do you know where you're going?" Brienne asked softly.

Griff nodded. "I know every inch of this fortress, every hidden alcove, every back staircase and every supposedly secret passage. I've had spies here from even before I was smuggled out of the city."

Brienne glanced at Podrick as they silently followed Griff. That made sense. Those who had protected Griff, who'd smuggled him out before the sacking of King's Landing, had kept faith with their king. They'd saved him, they'd hidden him and they kept him informed of the events in Westeros. Griff had to be current on the events in Westeros to eventually take his place as the King of the Seven Kingdoms.

While Griff had known what was occurring in Westeros, he hadn't been able to act until he had an army, gold and passage across the Narrow Sea. Cersei had unwittingly provided Griff with the gold and the naval force to bring his army to Westeros. The Westerosi armies were weakened and weary from fighting the War of the Five Kings, Cersei's march to crush the Tyrells, the Stark's battle to retake Winterfell and Daenerys's assault on the Gold Road. Griff's men were wealthy, strong and well-prepared, fresh and eager to reclaim the titles and keeps their ancestors had lost.

In a different time, the people may have protested, perhaps even risen up against the Targaryens. But now the kingdom was starved and scarred by war and facing a new, barely comprehensible threat. Many important holdings were unproductive without leadership, further weakening already unstable lands. Few had the energy, the men or the desire to go against rulers who commanded dragons. Not only did Griff have dragons, Brienne acknowledged with a heavy heart, he also had her. She, whom Daenerys had so proudly claimed as kin, was sworn to the man who would take away the kingdom the Dragon Queen had barely had a chance to rule.

Griff was a good man and would be a just king. He understood a kingdom was only as strong as its people. He'd noted immediately the capital was in disrepair and the people in desperate need. Walls and gates could hold out opposing armies but they couldn't hold in resentment, sickness or starvation. In centuries past, the anger of the people had even led them to kill the dragons trapped in the Dragonpit. Now despair and fear of an unstoppable army beyond the Wall kept them huddled together, waiting for another war they didn't want or understand. The people desperately looked for hope and reassurance from the blond-haired dragons.

"Aegon Martell Targaryen, I presume?" Tyrion's voice rang out in the silent, empty passageway.

He was standing near the main doors leading into the Throne Room. He wore Daenerys's Hand of the Queen pin on his jacket and a serious, cautious expression on his face.

Griff stopped to study him. "Tyrion Lannister."

Brienne and Podrick stopped a few paces behind him. The dragons came down around them, quiet and alert. They were far enough away that the Hand was out of the dragons' fire range. Tyrion looked at dragons then relaxed when they turned to face outward, not threatened by the youngest lion. He looked back to at Griff.

"I thought you were Rheagar when I saw you fighting stone men on that hill in Valyria." Tyrion studied Griff with equal intensity. "But then I was only six years old the last time I saw your father."

Griff's expression hardened. "I was only six _months_ old the last time I saw my father. Then your family proceeded to kill him, my grandfather, my mother, my sister, my cousin and my uncles."

Tyrion winced. "And yet you still saved my life in Valyria. Why?"

"Daenerys is one of the few remaining family members I still have left. I knew you were being taken to help her rule Meereen. I'd heard you were smart and capable." Griff paused. "But those were just more Lannister lies. You failed miserably."

"He didn't fail," Brienne corrected. "He deliberately gave Daenerys bad advice so she'd abandon Essos. He wanted her to bring fire and blood to King's Landing."

"Once a Lannister, always a Lannister," Griff noted.

His mouth curled into a slight smile that no one, other than those who knew him, would notice. Brienne knew Griff and she had noticed. Her heart began to pound. Had he known, or at least suspected, Tyrion's true nature? Had Griff _wanted_ Daenerys to attack King's Landing? Could Griff be so devious as to want his aunt to destroy the capital so he could swoop in to save the kingdom from another insane, pure-blood Targaryen?

Tyrion bowed his head. "I regret my actions and have apologized to my brother and my friends for the harm I've caused."

Griff raised his eyebrow. "Did you apologize to the people of the former slave cities? Many of them die daily as warlords and mercenaries attack. They know her men and her people are vulnerable now that their Queen has abandoned them for Westeros."

"She hasn't abandoned them," Tyrion insisted. "Once the threat is handled here in Westeros, she'll return to the Bay of Dragons to fight for her people there, too."

Now Griff's smile was evident. "Is that when you plan to install Brienne as your puppet queen?"

Brienne gasped. "How did you know about that? He only approached me this morning."

"He's a Lannister," Griff said. "They've always thirsted for power and hungered for the Iron Throne. Tyrion knows no one will accept him as king, not after his sister's debacle. He also knows his brother is as ill-suited for the throne as his twin. That means the Lord Hand can only keep and grow his power by manipulating the kind and honorable keeper of the Gods' dragons."

Brienne snorted. "I might be kind and I am honorable, but I'm no fool. I will not sit by and allow others to manipulate me."

"Are you sure about that?" Tyrion questioned quietly. "It seems you've allowed yourself to be manipulated by this man. How are you even sure he really is Aegon Targaryen?"

The dragons straightened alertly and hissed softly. Brienne looked over her shoulder. She wasn't surprised to see Jaime and Bronn come to join them. The dragons looked at Jaime then at Griff, as if waiting for him to instruct them. Griff knelt between Catren and Gallan, the dragons closest to him, and stroked their long necks. Both dragons turned to him, growling low in their throats, almost purring at the pleasure of his touch. Both pressed their heads against his shoulders, then rubbed their heads against his hair, children content in their father's arms.

"Does that answer your question, Lord Tyrion?" Griff asked. From his kneeling position, Griff was almost at eye level with the Hand to the Queen.

Tyrion cleared his throat. "The dragons adore Podrick as well. Does that make him a Targaryen, too?"

"No." It was Jaime who answered. "It means he's bonded to Brienne. She said the dragons bond to those who love her above all others and will die for her. She told us she has three bonds; her father, her squire and—"

Jaime stopped abruptly, his eyes widening as the truth hit him. Griff rose back to his full height, now taller than them all, including Brienne. Tyrion looked at Catren and Allwyn, still pressed against Griff's legs. The dragons looked back at him calmly, as if daring him to challenge them.

"You said you were loyal to Jon Snow but you're bonded to Aegon Targaryen." Tyrion spoke slowly, trying to work out the details as he spoke. "If Jon is your king then Aegon is your—"

The dragons growled. Tyrion stopped and looked at the dragons, wide-eyed. They, even Catren and Allwyn, raised their heads to stare at the Hand. Griff's lips pressed into a thin line and he glared at Tyrion, his hands curled into fists. The dragons had picked up on his spiking emotions and tensed.

"I didn't say Jon Snow was my king," Brienne corrected quietly. "He never asked me to declare myself. He just thanked me for my faith in him. And I…I didn't want to hurt his feelings."

Tyrion narrowed his eyes and took a step back. "Qyburn did the same thing with my sister. She never asked him to declare himself. She never understood he was using her to bring down House Lannister. He twisted her until she'd destroyed everything we had, everyone we loved."

"She's a Lannister. They're already twisted, even you, imp," Griff insisted. "Or don't you consider all your deliberate bad counsel to my aunt to be twisted?"

Tyrion had the grace to flush. "I admitted to my mistakes and I'm working to atone for them."

"Atone?" Griff laughed harshly. "How do you atone for the deaths and suffering of hundreds of innocent people in the former slave cities? How do you atone for the deaths of hundreds of Lannister soldiers and dozens of bloodriders on the Gold Road? What do Lannisters know about atoning for the bloodshed and suffering they cause?"

"We're learning," Jaime said quietly. He looked older, his face pale, his mouth pulling down at the corners and his shoulders dropping. "We've lost our home, our family, our wealth and our reputation. All we have left now is the three of us."

"That's three too many." Griff raised his arm, allowing the sleeve to fall, revealing the sheath on his forearm. "I can fix that in seconds. You're too old and slow to stop me, Kingslayer. I can cut your throat open before you even pull out your sword."

"No!" Brienne cried.

She pivoted so she was facing Griff, Jaime safely hidden behind her body. The dragons cried out and looked from Brienne to Griff. Ardayn and Serdun shifted closer to Brienne while Catren and Allwyn stayed close to Griff. Gallan looked from one to the other until Podrick pulled the blue dragon to his side. Bronn and Tyrion also looked between the two, but wisely stayed silent.

Jaime deliberately moved away from Brienne's protection. He looked down at Ardayn. The silver blue dragon was close enough to touch but made no move against the older lion. Jaime looked back up at Griff as he extended his arms, holding them out from his body. He wore his Lannister uniform but his neck was bare. _Widow's Wail_ hung from his belt but they all knew he wouldn't reach it before Griff got to him.

"You want to kill me? Will that give you comfort for the deaths of your family?" Jaime asked.

Griff sneered. "No, no comfort but it will give me satisfaction. The satisfaction of knowing I spilled Lannister blood, like how you spilled Targaryen blood."

"Like how I spilled Targaryen blood?" Jaime shrugged, arms still extended. "Then you have to give me a minute to remove my armor and turn around. I stabbed Mad King Aerys in the back."

Griff hissed again. Brienne glared at him then glared at Jaime. She knew Jaime became sarcastic and insulting as a defense to hide his deeper emotions. He'd done what was necessary to save the capital but lost his honor in the process. That shame and the unfairness of his false reputation was a heavy weight on his soul. All of King's Landing would have burned if he hadn't acted. Aerys had to be stopped. Griff had understood Jaime's reasons when they had discussed it before.

"I don't care about Aerys," Griff snarled. "I care about my mother and my sister. You just sat there while your father's dog tore them apart."

The harsh bravado faded and Jaime seemed to collapse into himself. His face went slack, his head fell forward, his arms dropped and his knees bowed while his shoulders drooped. It was almost as if Griff's words were a weight too heavy for Jaime to bear. Jaime shook his head then looked up, his mouth twisting.

"If taking my life would have brought back Princesses Elia or Rhaenys, I would have gladly given it, even then," he said quietly. "I didn't know what had happened to them. I never thought my father would hurt them."

Griff laughed harshly. "You never thought your father would hurt them? Your father hurt half this kingdom, destroying family after family, even before he ordered the sacking of King's Landing and the assault against the North. Tywin Lannister was as mad as Aerys. He deserved a far more brutal death than your imp brother's bolt in his chest. He should have been torn apart and had his head smashed, just like my mother."

"Fine." Jaime nodded. "Then do it. Kill me by whatever means you want. Line up a hundred of your men, even a hundred of my men, to do the deed. Then maybe Rhaegar and his accusations will stop haunting my nightmares."

Brienne frowned at him. "What do you mean?"

"To this day, Rhaegar comes to me in my dreams, as do Ser Arthur Dayne and my other dead Kinggaurd brothers," Jaime explained, his voice ragged. "Rhaegar reminds me his last request was to keep his wife and children safe. I _am_ the Kingslayer. I killed Aerys to save this city but I destroyed myself in the process. So, take your revenge, son of Rhaegar, and I'll start my journey into the Seven Hells."

"No, you won't," Brienne insisted. "Please, both of you, think this through."

"It's alright, Brienne," Jaime gently touched her shoulder in a comforting gesture. "Maybe this world will be better without the Kingslayer, the man without honor."

Griff hissed, sounding remarkably like the dragons, at the sight. Brienne glanced at Jaime's hand then at his haunted face.

"No, it's not alright, Ser Jaime," she insisted. "There is honor in you. You've shown it to me, _for_ me. I'm alive because of it. The Gods have seen your honor, too. You have an important role to play in the Great War to come. I will not allow you, either of you," she looked from one to the other, "to take a chosen warrior away from the Gods."

Brienne paused for a moment but neither spoke or moved. She shifted out from Jaime's hand and stepped closer to Griff. Griff was still staring at Jaime, burning hatred apparent in his fiery eyes, pinched nostrils and twisted mouth. She grabbed his shoulders, tempted to shake sense into him.

"You promised me the people would no longer have to endure mad, cruel or incompetent rulers," Brienne reminded him. "You said they'd soon have a king who would put the people first. That's why I pledged my sword to you."

Griff finally looked away from Jaime to meet her gaze. The rage in his eyes eased and the color lightened back to indigo. Jaime dropped his head again while Tyrion and Bronn exchanged worried glances. Podrick remained crouched with Gallan as his side, both quiet and still as they watched the tense confrontation. Brienne stepped closer to Griff, close enough to feel his breath on her cheek.

"Westeros needs a competent king who puts the people first," Brienne continued. "You promised me you were that king. We're about to face a threat greater than any we've ever faced, an enemy who doesn't tire and has an inexhaustible army. The Gods have demanded Ser Jaime as a warrior in this war. You cannot put your personal grievances ahead of the survival of your people."

Griff closed his eyes and took a deep breath, regaining his self-control. Brienne glanced down at Podrick who smiled at her in encouragement. Jaime was quiet and still, drawn into himself, back in the place of self-loathing and despair where his ghosts continued to haunt him. Bronn watched them carefully, but as an observer, a man without a personal stake in the outcome. Tyrion looked from Brienne to Griff and back again, his eyes blinking rapidly. Brienne could almost see him factoring this new information into his schemes and calculations.

"Thank you, Brienne," Griff said quietly, drawing her attention back to him. "You're right. My personal feelings cannot come before the needs of the people." He smiled and leaned forward, so he could press his forehead into hers and look directly into her eyes. "That's why I need you at my side. A king sometimes has to be reminded of his duty."

"Not just kings." She stepped back smartly. "Most men claim women have weak temperaments and cannot control themselves. Yet more men have died from their tempers and confrontations with other men than women have from other women's weak constitutions."

"Just so," Griff agreed. "Fortunately, I'm smart enough to have a strong woman at my side. You're right. We have to put our personal difference aside. There are too many threats facing the kingdom. We have no time to squabble amongst ourselves while those who stand against us grow stronger and bolder."

Griff nodded and abruptly turned around. He marched past Tyrion to open the doors to the throne room. Brienne raised to her to remind him the Iron Throne was now a mass of melted metal. Griff had only taken a step into the hall before he froze, his body going rigid. He whirled around to glare at Jaime and Tyrion.

"What is the meaning of this?" he demanded through clenched teeth.

"The dragons melted the Iron Throne," Brienne explained. "There were Valyrian steel weapons used to make it. We need them for the battle against the Army of the Dead."

"I know the dragons melted the throne," Griff agreed. "I asking about the monstrosity above the throne."

"The dragon's fire melted the glass in the windows," Podrick explained. "That's why the Throne Room is closed, so the glass workers can restore the stars."

Griff's face flushed with color. "No, there's no star."

Brienne looked at Podrick who rose and hurried to her side. Tyrion frowned and looked to Bronn and Jaime. Bronn shrugged while Jaime remained lost inside himself. Brienne crossed to the doors in two large strides, Podrick at her heels and the dragons rising above her. She looked down the enormous, silent hall and gasped in horror.

The room was glowing with the midday sunlight streaming through the windows. The last time she'd been in the Throne Room was when the dragons' fire had freed the Valyrian steel swords. The stained-glass windows had been so damaged by the flames, Daenerys had ordered the hall closed and off limits until the windows were repaired. The smaller windows now shone again, the glass once again clear seven-point stars, the symbol of the Faith of the Seven. The walls were scrubbed clean of the red glass that had run down like streaks of blood.

The center round window, the enormous centerpiece that had cast the reflection that made the Valyrian steel swords shine blood-red, had been removed. The seven-pointed star that had held the place of honor, shining bold and bright above the mangled remains of the Iron Throne, was no longer there.

It had been replaced by the roaring lion symbol of House Lannister.


	32. Peace Keeper

THE KEEPER

Chapter 32: Peace Keeper

Brienne continued to stare at the roaring lion symbol that had replaced the seven-pointed star in the stained-glass window. The Lannister lion was set in molten yellow that looked almost gold in the sunlight. Defiant and bold, the lion cast a shadow that reflected over the melted mass of the Iron Throne. She stumbled forward, closer to the abomination, unable to accept what she was seeing.

Griff, Podrick and the dragons were not caught in her shocked horror. Griff strode to her side, taking her arm to halt her. He looked past her continuing to glare at Tyrion and Jaime. Podrick came obediently to her other side, focused on her instead of the Lannisters. The dragons landed around them. The five looked around alertly, searching for possible threats in the enormous, empty hall.

"This…this is blasphemy," Brienne gasped. "How dare you replace a symbol of the Gods with the sigil of a house?"

"Perhaps, Lord Hand," Griff spoke through clenched teeth, "you should have waited a bit longer before you decided to replace the Gods with the Lannisters."

Tyrion's eyes widened and he shook his head vigorously. "I didn't do this!"

"No?" Griff sneered. "You're already planning to replace your queen and rule Westeros from behind the throne. Who else would do this?"

"I can name a suspect," a voice called from the doors.

They all turned to the newcomer. Bronn, standing just inside the doors, moved aside. Varys slid into the room, as silent and observant as the spider that was his nickname. The former Master of Whispers looked from Tyrion to Griff, his hands pressed together as they often were. His eyes widened as he studied the man with Targaryen silver-blond hair and purple eyes. Varys looked back to Tyrion, his brows furrowed.

Tyrion cleared his throat. "He claims he's Aegon Targaryen, the supposedly dead son of Rhaegar and Elia Martell." Tyrion looked side-eyed at Griff. "But he presents no proof."

"Prince Aegon was supposed to have died, along with his mother and sister, during the sacking of King's Landing," Varys reminded him, gliding closer to join them. "Lord Tywin presented the bodies and Ser Gregor admitted to the deed."

"I'm sure this will come as a shock to you but Gregor lied," Griff said. "My agents removed me from my crib when the Lannister forces came to the gates. When Gregor realized I wasn't there, he knew Tywin would have him executed, no matter how successful he was at killing my mother and sister. He took another helpless babe, beat his head mercilessly until he was unrecognizable, then presented him to the demon he called his lord."

"A convenient story," Tyrion pointed out mildly.

"And one easily proved. You have Gregor in the black cells. Present him to me and judge by his reaction," Griff suggested.

"He might not react," Podrick caution. "He was gravely wounded in battle against your Uncle Oberyn. They say Ser Gregor screamed in agony for days after. Now he's more creature than human."

"It's no less than he deserved." Griff eyes narrowed. "It's a pity Tywin Lannister died with so little pain. He should have suffered a great deal more."

"He was my father," Jaime hissed. "Whatever you may think of him, he was the reason King's Landing survived for so long under Aerys's madness."

"He's also the reason why so many suffered after Aerys's death, including your own brother," Griff reminded viciously. "Would he have been forced to flee to Essos if your father and sister didn't want him dead?"

Jaime stared at Griff, at a loss for words to defend his father or sister. Brienne winced as Jaime's pain and regret reverberated in her heart. No matter how hard he tried, Jaime couldn't justify his father's actions. Tywin Lannister's crimes against House Targaryen, and even his own son, were too great to overcome.

Tyrion sighed and touched his brother's hand. "Jaime, the past cannot be changed. We can only go forward. The kingdom is facing a threat beyond any we've known before. We cannot allow this imposter to distract us."

"I'm not an imposter." Griff's voice was low and steady, firm with his conviction.

"You may believe you're Aegon, but your word isn't proof." Varys's tone was a calm and steady as Griff's. "Simply having Targaryen coloring doesn't make you a dragon."

Griff glanced over at Brienne. This was the same point she'd made that night on the _Sea Keeper_. She believed he was the true king because she wanted to believe it. Nothing he'd said, nothing he'd done, even having the blood of the dragon, was proof of his claim. She knew in her heart Griff was a good man and would be a just king. Still, Varys was right. Knowledge wasn't proof.

"I don't need proof," Griff insisted. "I'm the rightful King of the Seven Kingdoms. I'm here because Westeros needs me. It's my duty to protect the people."

"The people are already being protected," Varys insisted. "Even now, Queen Daenerys marches with the King in the North to defend her people."

"What good is marching to face an enemy if she can't trust those she left behind to manage in her stead?" Griff questioned. "She put the kingdom in the hands of incompetent men who think themselves kingmakers, or in this case, queenmakers."

"We're not incompetent,' Tyrion defended himself. "We're thinking about the future of the realm and how to best retain our queen's legacy."

"Really?" Griff raised his brows in a gesture strikingly similar to Daenerys. "Was that what you were doing when you decided to negotiate with slavers in Meereen?"

"The city was almost at war. I was trying to ease the tension." Tyrion insisted. "Regardless, I don't owe you any explanations."

"No? If not me, how will you explain your actions to your queen?" Griff asked. "Does she know you deliberately give her false council to bring her to Westeros? Does she know you've already chosen her successor? Does she know you've already started…" Griff paused to glance at the stained-glass window, "to arrange the Red Keep to your liking?"

"I didn't!" Tyrion insisted. "I didn't know about the window."

"You're Hand to the Queen. It's your job to know about those things that undermine her rule." Griff's voice was so light, it was almost taunting. "Replacing the symbol of the Gods with the sigil of House Lannister is another example of you undermining your queen."

Tyrion flushed very red. Jaime stepped in front of his brother, his hand curled into a fist. Griff glanced at Jaime then looked away, clearly unimpressed. The gesture was greater than words, that Griff dismissed Jaime as unimportant. Brienne felt her own temper ignite. Griff was wrong for treating the brothers as he did. Jaime was a good man and a warrior of the Gods. Protecting his brother was a natural instinct for Jaime.

Tyrion had made mistakes but his heart was good, too. He'd reacted instantly to help her with the orphans and had readily admitted his mistakes. He wasn't stupid nor was he cruel. There was no reason for Tyrion to do something like this. He knew how much many people, including Brienne, valued the Gods. Actions like this would immediately shroud the Hand to the Queen's every action in doubt and contempt.

No, this act was both petty and arrogant. Replacing the window was only a small matter without lasting harm. A good glass maker would easily change the window in a day or two. Even the risk of insulting or angering the people was mitigated. The Throne Room was still closed so very few had seen the Lannister sigil. Tyrion was too smart to risk alienating the very people he was here to rule. No, a bold person did this, one with connections within the city, who held himself above all, including the Gods.

A person like…

"I believe it was Cersei," Varys explained. "My little birds told me about the sigil almost as soon as the glass was fitted yesterday. I had them find out who ordered the sigil be created."

"Little birds?" Griff repeated.

"That's his network of spies," Podrick explained. "They're mostly children who work in the castle and the city."

"It can't be Cersei," Jaime argued. "She's been locked up in her rooms, devastated by what that sniveling ex-maester did to her and to us."

"Devastated?" Tyrion repeated, eyes widening. "When has our sister ever been devastated?"

"She lost everything, including her children, because of that man," Jaime hissed. "He poisoned her and made her do things she would never have done without his provocation."

Tyrion stared at his brother, his mouth working but unable to form words. The Hand's face flushed red as he clenched his fists. For a moment he nearly vibrated with rage before regaining control of himself. Tyrion took a deep breath and shook his head.

"Jaime, when will you see who she really is?" Tyrion's voice was so controlled, it was flat. "She wasn't poisoned when Joffery died, was she? She should have been devastated then but she still had the mind to set up false witnesses against me. She plotted my death!"

Jaime shook his head, as if denying his brother's words. "No, we agreed you'd take the black. _You_ demanded the trial by combat."

"I was innocent of the crime! Do you really think I would have lived to make it to Castle Black, Jaime?" Tyrion demanded, his voice rising. "Father and Cersei have been looking for an excuse to kill me since the day I was born."

Jaime stared at his brother, speechless. The agony in his eyes pierced Brienne's heart. Jaime lived for his family and would have willingly died for them. But the Gods had spared him after events that would have killed other men. They needed him to live to fight in the Great War. Living wasn't always easy. For Jaime, it was a terrible burden, his soul weighed down with regrets, pain and loss.

"Lord Varys, how could it possibly be Cersei?" Brienne asked. "She was locked in her chambers at all times."

Varys hesitated, exchanging meaningful glances with Tyrion. Tyrion's eyebrows rose and Varys nodded. They both looked grim over their silent communication. Then they both looked at Jaime with sympathy. Finally, Varys sighed and turned to Brienne.

"What?" Jaime demanded. "What is it? What are you hiding from me?"

"There are still those who are loyal to her," Varys explained, "especially now that they no longer need to hide their alliances."

"What happened?" Tyrion asked. "Who did this?"

Varys tucked his hands into the opposite sleeves, tightening his arms around himself. "Two men wearing robes and hoods beat the glass maker's son and threatened to assault his daughter. The poor man labored day and night to prepare the glass."

"Do you have any idea who those men were?" Griff demanded.

Again, Varys glanced at Jaime then looked at Tyrion. The Spider raised his eyebrows, as if asking the Hand for permission to reveal what he knew. The younger Lannister nodded gravely. Varys sighed heavily but nodded back.

"My little birds report they saw white cloaks and white armor beneath their robes," Varys reported.

"Queensguard? How is that possible? They were dismissed only yesterday afternoon," Brienne protested. "They had bent the knee to Daenerys. Why would they do what Cersei wanted? And how did they even reach her?"

Varys sighed again. "My little birds are never wrong, my Lady Ser. The quality may not see them but they see everything."

Tyrion sighed, too. "Ser Osmond?"

"Their descriptions matched Ser Osmond and Ser Preston," Varys confirmed. "My little birds have seen them terrorizing the smallfolk for Cersei in the past."

"No," Jaime denied. "That's not true. Why would the White Cloaks continue to follow Cersei if they've already pledged themselves to Daenerys?"

"They wouldn't be the first White Cloaks to betray their vows," Griff noted, his voice sharp. "They had you to lead them."

"Cersei is my twin, we were born together," Jaime reminded them. "Our bond cannot be broken so easily. My cloak, no matter how soiled, wasn't the reason the other Queensguard went astray. They don't have my bond with Cersei."

Jaime flushed red and clenched his teeth, making his jaw harden into a sharp line. Tyrion and Varys exchanged meaningful looks again. Varys looked at the floor while Tyrion closed his eyes. Finally, the Hand opened his eyes and turned to look at Jaime.

"Jaime, you know Cersei loves power. She considers controlling others a form of power," he said gently. "One of the ways she controlled people is by bedding them. Ser Osmund was one of her bedmates while you were imprisoned in the North."

For a moment, Jaime's face was wiped clean of expression. Varys smoothed his expression to blank calmness and looked away. Jaime stared at Tyrion. Tyrion couldn't hide his emotions as well as his friend. Sadness and sympathy created a shine in Tyrion's eyes and pulled down the corners of his mouth. Jaime looked past him to Bronn standing just inside the doors. Bronn crossed his arms and shook his head, his expression half sympathy, half annoyance before he nodded in confirmation.

Brienne looked at Podrick, her eyes wide with question. Podrick grimaced and nodded back at her. Brienne didn't know why the news shocked her almost as much as it shocked Jaime. Cersei had admitted to adultery, but not with Jaime, before her walk of atonement. There had to be other men whom the High Sparrow used to corroborate his accusations. But why? How could Cersei hurt Jaime in such a way, knowing he'd sacrificed his entire life for her?

Jaime seemed to be coming out of his shock, color returning into his face. His harsh breathing was evident in the rapid rise and fall of his chest. He stared at the roaring lion sigil, the symbol of his house and the family he'd given his life and honor to protect and please. His mouth twisted with disgust and his wildfire green eyes glittered like burning emeralds.

"One?" Jaime hissed. "_One_ of her bedmates?"

"She has other…admirers, even among the household staff," Varys explained carefully. "Those who hold her favor. They would have no trouble dressing as a maid or a guard to slip out a note to her agents."

"You knew about this?" Jaime demanded, glaring at Tyrion. "Why didn't you tell me?"

"When should I have told you?" Tyrion challenged. "During the parlay when Euron threatened to kill me or before, in the passageways where _you_ threatened to kill me?"

"How about when I freed you from the cells and had you smuggled out of the capital?" Jaime suggested, his voice hard and angry. "You could have told me then."

"What good would that have done, brother?" Tyrion cried. "I thought it was the last time I would ever see you. I didn't want to spoil our last memory together by hurting you."

"So, you choose to hurt me by killing our father, instead," Jaime lashed out. "If Father were still alive, then Tommen and Myrcella might be alive, too. At least, if you had told me, I would have known how stupid I was for trusting Cersei. Maybe _I_ could have kept Tommen and Myrcella alive."

Jaime's voice broke and he stopped speaking, his lips pressed into a pale, colorless line. Tyrion's mouth fell open as he stared at his brother. The true cost of his actions seemed to register as his face lost all color. Tears swam in both Lannisters' eyes.

Brienne's heart pounded. Could it have made a difference? If Jaime had known sooner about his sister's true nature, would events have changed? She'd asked herself that same question when she'd finally understood her cave dream. She'd dreamt of the fall of House Lannister nearly five months ago. Unfortunately, she hadn't understood until it was too late, until after Qyburn had taken his revenge on Tywin Lannister's family.

Brienne felt heat against her legs. She looked down to see Allwyn and Gallan curling against her. The dragons were disturbed by the aching emotions surround them. If she was reacting this way, how much worse was it for the dragons? Despite being the most powerful creatures in the world, they were so emotionally sensitive, they could feel another's sorrow deeply. She knelt down to hug them to her, trying to assure them they were safe and loved, that no one would cause them the pain Jaime and Tyrion were now experiencing.

Podrick knelt beside her, stroking Serdun's neck with long, steady sweeps. Serdun, normally aloof and independent, pressed against her squire. Podrick smiled sadly at Brienne but remained silent. On her other side, Griff knelt with Catren and Ardayn held so close, their three heads almost pressed together. Unlike Podrick, there was no empathy in Griff's expression. Instead, her king watched with cold disinterest, as if he was in the audience of an exceedingly dull stage play.

"I've heard enough." Griff rose to his feet but still kept his hands on the dragons. "This window is an example of you underestimating your opponent, your lack of communication, your inability to secure your position or control your people and your general incompetence."

Tyrion blinked rapidly to clear his eyes of tears. "We've only had two days to take charge of the city."

"A good Hand would be ready on a moment's notice," Griff snapped. "I'm taking over."

"You can't do that!" Tyrion protested.

Griff snorted. "Who's going to stop me? The White Cloaks you released? The Lannister guards who won't lift a sword around the dragons? The people of King's Landing who look to the Targaryens for leadership now that they've been freed from the misery of Cersei Lannister and her bastard sons' reigns?" Griff's brows rose in the Daenerys-like manner. "_You_, Lord Hand?"

Tyrion opened his mouth but no words came out. Instead, he looked from Griff to the dragons then at Brienne. Brienne rose to stand beside her king. Podrick continued to kneel with Serdun. The dragons, though still pressed close to them, also straightened. Tyrion eyes widened and the color drained from his face. He was stunned, similar to the expression on Cersei's face when the dragons took the Iron Throne. It was the horrified realization that there was nothing he could do against the dragons.

King Aegon Targaryen stood with the most visible symbols of his claim, the dragons and his sworn sword, at his back. Further behind him was the melted remains of the throne created by the first Targaryen king. When challenged, the dragons had destroyed the throne that has been tainted by reckless rulers and reigns of madness. The symbolism was clear. Men and their armies could not stand against him.

Tyrion blinked rapidly. Beside him, Jaime was as still as stone. Varys's expression was carefully blank but his hands tightened, almost as if he was holding himself. Bronn continued to observe them from his position near the door.

"How do you think Daenerys will take this news?" Tyrion finally found his voice. "What do you think she'll do when she learns a usurper is trying to take her throne?"

Tyrion tried to sound threatening but was still clearly rattled by the swiftly changing events. Griff smiled, making it clear he wasn't intimidated or fooled by the Hand's attempt to regain control of the situation.

"I imagine it's the same reaction she'll have when she finds out her Hand deliberately lied to her," Griff responded easily. "How do you think she'll react to learning so many of her people died unnecessarily, because of you?"

Tyrion exchanged grim glances with Varys. Bronn, who'd been uncharacteristically silent, stood stiffly just inside the doors. The knight's sword hand twitched but he didn't reach for his blade. Jaime's eyes were still dark and haunted, indicating he'd retreated within himself.

"I've seen what she does to those who betray her," Tyrion said softly. "Dragonfire is a terrible way to die."

"Then it's best you avoid it, Lord Tyrion," Griff suggested. "The only way to redeem yourself in your queen's eyes is by competently managing the kingdom. You've already shown you can't do that alone. You need me to guide you."

"You're here to help?" Bronn spoke for the first time. "You're not trying to take the throne from the Dragon Queen?"

Griff looked at the melted mass of the Iron Throne. "The throne isn't much of a prize, is it? For that matter, neither is King's Landing. This city is a mess, the people are starving and your defenses are non-existent."

"We've been preparing to fight the Army of the Dead," Tyrion hissed. "The city, the people and the defenses won't matter if the Night King escapes the Wall."

"Jon Snow and my aunt march to battle that enemy," Griff replied, undisturbed by the reminder. "We need to focus on the other problems facing the kingdom. What do you consider the greatest threat?"

Brienne and Varys spoke at the same time.

"_Dragonbinder_," Brienne said.

"Dorne," Varys said.

Griff looked from Brienne to Varys then back to Brienne. Unlike his flippant comments to Tyrion, he frowned as he considered their answers. He nodded to Brienne before looking back at the group.

"What has been done to find this horn?" Griff asked.

"We've been working our sources to find any whisper of _Dragonbinder_," Bronn said. "I've been pulled into alleys and backways I never thought would be brothels. And what happens inside them was almost too much, even for me."

Bronn shuddered visibly at the memory. Griff stared at Bronn for a moment, nonplused, his reaction almost as muted as Jaime's. Brienne blushed despite herself. Tyrion sighed again and rubbed his forehead as if it pained him while Varys remained stoic and calm. Podrick cleared his throat to draw Griff's attention.

"While Ser Bronn was checking in the brothels, trying to pick up whispers from the customers, I was in the fish market," Podrick explained. "The horn was stolen off the Greyjoy ship. I thought it likely the thief was known in the markets closest to the bay."

"Good thinking, Podrick," Griff complemented. "Now continue thinking. Who would have the most to gain from commanding dragons?"

"Anyone." Podrick frowned. "Wouldn't most people want such a power?"

"Would they?" Griff questioned.

Podrick's mouth opened and then closed without sound. He looked over at Serdun, who he'd been unconsciously still stroking. The orange and green dragon was pressed into his side, relaxed but watchful under the squire's hand.

"_Dragonbinder_ wouldn't just control these five, Pod," Griff noted. "It could also control the big dragons. Why would someone want to control the dragons, knowing that in a few hours, they'll regain their free will?"

Brienne frowned as she watched their exchange. She'd seen Griff use the method before. He would guide another person through his thought process, to bring them to his conclusion. He'd explained to her that the discussion strengthened his men's abilities to logic and reason. It gave them confidence to make better decisions from his training.

Podrick thought for a moment. "But can't the person who has _Dragonbinder_ just have another man blow the horn and take the dragons?"

"You've been around these dragons for many weeks, Pod. Do you consider them intelligent?" Griff asked.

"Of course," Podrick agreed, still stroking Serdun. "In some ways, they're even smarter than we are. They can sense emotions better than we can so they understand intent."

"So, if someone were to take the dragons against their will, would the dragons sense that person was about to die?" Griff continued. "Before the man's master knew it?"

"They would sense the person was in pain and suffering," Podrick spoke slowly. Then his eyes widened. "You're saying the dragons would sense that person was dying then attack the second his life ended."

"_Dragons can't be made into slaves. They're too strong and intelligent to be broken."_

Brienne recalled his words. Griff had told her that, in the Golden Company's office in Tyrosh, before she'd introduced him and Tristian to the newborn dragons. Now she understood what he meant.

"Dragons aren't meant to be slaves because their free will cannot be broken. They would find a way to attack whoever was controlling them," Brienne concluded. "They would destroy the horn as soon as they regained autonomy."

"So, the only way this person can continue to use the horn is if he has many men ready to blow for him," Griff concluded. "To keep the dragons enslaved. But the dragons will never lose their free will. Eventually, they'll win and destroy the master."

"But that could take time," Brienne pointed out. "Depending on how many men this master has, it could take months for the dragons to kill all of them."

"What does this tell us about this master?" Griff prodded.

Bronn suddenly jerked, already at the conclusion Griff was trying to coax Brienne and Podrick to reason out. The knight strode over to join them, his eyes widening.

"The fucker has an army," Bronn concluded. "Or thinks he'll have an army, once he secures the dragons."

Griff studied the recently anointed knight, taking in the older man's worn leathers and hardened attitude. Bronn held himself to his full height, as if knowing he was being judged. Griff glanced at Podrick, who finally stood up from Serdun's side.

"This is Ser Bronn of the Blackwater," Podrick explained. "He's been helping us search for _Dragonbinder_."

Griff turned back to Bronn. "Have you been knighted long, Ser Bronn?"

"Long enough," Bronn said easily.

"I ask because you seem to be a man of common sense," Griff said mildly. "That appears to be in short supply among these so-called leaders."

"I learned from growing up in alleys," Bronn snorted. "Not from septas or maesters."

"Then let's test your knowledge," Griff suggested. "Daenerys already controls dragons and Jon Snow marches at her side. Neither of them needs to engage an army to blow a horn." Griff pause. "So, who has an army or needs an army to control dragons? Who marches on the capital as we speak?"

A shock went through the group. The dragons stood up straight, hissing as they looked around for the source of the sudden emotional spike. The humans all looked at Griff, even Jaime, their eyes widening as they all understood Griff's reasoning.

"Dorne," Varys whispered. "Whoever controls the dragons can become the new Prince of Dorne. He'll have the loyalty of the Dornish armies once he has that power. Thousands would willingly die to take revenge on those they hold responsible for the deaths of the Martell family."

"Manfrey Martell." Tyrion's face drained of color. "That's why, after weeks of trying to reach someone in Dorne, the castellan of Sunspear reached out to _us_."

"What does he want?" Griff demanded.

"He wants a parlay in Dorne," Tyrion explained.

"No," Griff answered immediately, his eyes narrowing. "That will not happen."

"The Dornish are marching against us," Jaime reminded him. "We have a plan to parlay to stop the march."

"Is this a Lannister plan? Usually, Lannisters prefer to pay others instead of doing the work themselves," Griff snorted.

Bronn shrugged. "Free trade makes the world a better place."

"I won't follow a Lannister's plan," Griff insisted. "That way lies ruin."

"You don't even know the plan," Jaime protested.

"If it's made by you, it'll be the same as usual," Griff sneered. "Your last plan was to arm and armor Brienne, then send her off to risk her life while you stayed behind to fuck your sister. Is the new plan about the same?"

Jaime flushed and took a step back, as if Griff's words were a physical blow. He looked at Brienne before his gaze fell to the floor.

"It wasn't like that," Brienne gasped. "I would have gone anyway. I was sworn to Lady Catelyn. It was an honor to fulfill our vow to return Lady Sansa to her brother."

She stood tall and proud, sure in her conviction that she'd acted honorably. The disgust melted from Griff's expression as he looked at her. His eyes softened and the corners of his mouth curved into a faint smile as he reached out to touch her cheek.

"And you succeeded magnificently," Griff agreed. "You were honorable and you fulfilled your vow. You're one of the greatest knights Westeros will ever know."

Brienne kept her composure but the place inside of that shrank away from praise, expecting insults in every comment, softened. The constant warmth and acceptance from Podrick, Griff, Sansa, Jon, Daenerys and Missandei had gradually broken down the scarred tissue. Praise from the people she knew and trusted to treat her with honesty and respect were a balm to that damaged part of her soul.

"Still, you came to Essos with Lannister gold and a Lannister sword." Griff's hand dropped and his expression hardened again. "While he stayed in King's Landing, openly bedding his sister when he wasn't marching against the Blackfish or the Tyrells. Now, he'll send you to Dorne, where you'll face the Dornish army and their history of attacking from the shadows, while he returns to the comfort of his sister's bed. Isn't that his plan?"

Jaime's face flushed deeper red and he stepped forward. Catren and Ardayn, still at Griff's side, hissed in warning. Jaime stopped and looked down at them. Brienne was silent, unsure of what to say to ease the increased tension. She didn't know if Jaime was still bedding his sister. Cersei wasn't allowed to leave her rooms but no one would stop Jaime if he went to her.

Bronn cleared his throat. "I'm not sure Cersei's bed is all that comfortable for him, seeing as he's now supporting the woman who overthrew her."

"Bronn," Tyrion hissed. "Shut up."

Bronn shrugged but didn't say anything else. Only Podrick and Varys weren't affected by Griff's taunt. Varys's expression remained calm, as usual. Podrick frowned then his eyes widened.

"Is that why Manfrey Martell wants to have the parlay in Dorne?" Podrick asked. "He knows my Lady Ser will bring the dragons with her. He has the horn and intends to enslave the dragons while they're there?"

"He's a cousin to Prince Doran," Varys pointed out. "The whisper is he's the most likely to be named the new Prince of Dorne. His men are already loyal. None of the other houses would stand against him if he enslaved the dragons."

Griff's expression hardened. "No, I won't allow it. He won't have the dragons, not even for a moment. They're not going near Dorne until that horn is found."

"The Dornish are marching," Jaime reminded him again. "We must stop their march or we'll be fighting wars from both sides. We need the parlay."

"Brienne isn't going to Sunspear, to where they have the advantage of territory and men." Griff eyed Jaime with open disgust. "Are you sure you're a battle commander? A decent commander would control the battlefield and limit his opponent's resources. You must entice your enemy to come to _your_ territory to parlay."

"We have nothing to entice the enemy,' Jaime hissed. "They won't come to us until they march to take King's Landing."

"They'll come, if you offer them something they desperately want," Griff insisted.

"The only thing we have that they want are the dragons,' Tyrion pointed out. "They could bring the horn with them. What's to stop them from using _Dragonbinder_ the moment they get in range of the dragons, whatever that range is?"

"They don't know what the range is. We'll hear the horn when they blow it. These five dragons are small and have a limited fire range," Griff pointed out. "We could kill the Dornish group before the young dragons do extensive damage. No, the Dornishmen won't risk using the horn, if they only have a small contingent of men with them."

"Then why would they come to King's Landing to parlay with us?" Varys asked.

"We'll give them what they've wanted for nearly as long as I've been alive. Vengeance," Griff answered. "We'll give them Gregor Clegane and the Lannisters."

"No!"

Brienne, Tyrion and Jaime spoke almost in unison. Griff raised his chin, unimpressed by their resistance. Tyrion glared at Griff while Brienne stared at him in horror. Jaime actually reached for his sword before the dragons hissed and spread their wings. Podrick took a step back, his eyes wide, as he stared at Jaime. Slowly Jaime moved his hand away from his sword belt and took a deep breath.

Brienne stepped forward, symbolically putting Jaime and Tyrion behind her back. Griff's eyes darkened to almost black at her move. She gently laid her hand on his shoulder. His heart thrummed furiously under her hand. He didn't refuse her touch but his body remained rigid as he watched her.

"You cannot give them Ser Jaime or Lord Tyrion," Brienne protested, fighting to keep her voice calm and even. "The Gods demand Ser Jaime fight for the living in the battle against the Army of the Dead. The fate of humanity may depend upon him."

Griff gritted his teeth but watched her with glittering indigo eyes. The dragons remained alert around them but drew in their wings. They could sense the tension easing around them. Griff was in control of his emotions even when revenge for the deaths of mother and sister were so close.

Brienne breathed deeply and continued. "Lord Tyrion is Daenerys's Hand. She'll consider it an act of war if you give him over to Dorne. We're facing enough wars. Please, don't bring more upon us."

Griff studied her face for a long moment. Something he saw in her expression must have reached him. Under her hand, his heartbeat slowed back to an even pulse. The savage light in his eyes began to fade, lightening the color. Finally, he nodded. He took her hand to remove it from his shoulder, squeezing gently before he released it.

"Very well," he agreed. "We'll decide on the fates of the Kingslayer and the helpless Hand after the battle. But we must offer the Dornish something significant to bring them to King's Landing. They shall have Gregor Clegane and Cersei Lannister."

"No!"

This time it was only Jaime who cried out. Tyrion bent his head, hiding his expression, but he said nothing. Brienne also stayed silent, knowing Griff was right. The Dornish would only come, would only halt their march, if they were given partial vengeance for their suffering at the hands of House Lannister. Tywin had ordered the deaths of Princesses Elia and Rhaenys but he'd died and escaped Dorne's wrath. Gregor would pay for his crimes, if there was enough humanity left in him to understand.

Cersei's machinations, instigated by her hatred of Tyrion then by the cunning of Qyburn, had led to the deaths of Princes Oberyn, Trystane and Doran. She would be partial recompense for the sufferings of the Martell family. Despite the deep cruelty in Cersei, Brienne felt compassion for the horrors that would await her in Dorne. But the death of one would save the lives of thousands fighting, or caught in the cross-fire, in a battle against the Dornish.

"I will not allow you to kill my sister," Jaime insisted. "She was poisoned by that pathetic excuse for a maester. She didn't know what she was doing."

"You did," Griff reminded him. "You followed her orders without question. You slaughtered hundreds of your own men at Highgarden on her command. You watched her falsely sit upon the Iron Throne and did nothing to curb her. You saw the destruction she wrought at the Sept of Baelor and simply fell into bed with her. She killed hundreds, including your own children, and still you obey her commands. "

Jaime flushed and took a step back, unable to defend himself against Griff's claims. Griff took a step forward, closing the distance between them.

"Tell me, Kingslayer, has your sister ever done anything good for you?" Griff questions. "Has she ever made a decision that benefited you and not her? Is the pleasure of bedding her enough to make up for all that she's taken from you? If not for her, you'd be the respected Lord of Casterly Rock, father of living children all your own, leader of a dynasty and known as a man of honor."

Jaime remained silent, the color draining from his face. Griff pressed his advantage, both physically and verbally. He took another step closer to Jaime and continued to hammer him with verbal blows.

"Kingslayer, was it worth giving all that up, for Cersei? Is the half-life she condescended to give you enough?" Then Griff delivered his hardest blow. "Is she worth more than Brienne?"

"What?" Jaime gasped.

"Brienne or Cersei," Griff continued relentlessly. "One of them must go to Dorne if you don't want the Dornish to spill blood in King's Landing. To this very moment, you defend your sister, regardless of her actions. If you continue to do so, Brienne will make the choice. She's a woman of honor, a noble knight of the Seven Kingdoms, who would willingly sacrifice herself for the greater good."

Brienne gasped but softly. It was true. If the Gods required her to sacrifice herself so that others, innocent and deserving like Podrick and Ela, had a chance to live, she would do so. She was the Gods' warrior and an instrument of their will. The Gods commanded and she obeyed.

Griff took another step closer to Jaime, who was now rooted to the spot. Jaime wrenched his gaze away from Griff to stare at Brienne. His green eyes were wide and wild, shocked almost beyond his ability to comprehend.

"Decide, Kingslayer," Griff ordered. "Will you sacrifice Brienne, for Cersei?"


	33. Messenger Keeper

The Keeper

Chapter 33: Messenger Keeper

It was the cries of the dragons that finally woke Brienne. She blinked rapidly as her eyes adjusted to the bright sunlight pouring in through the windows. The door connecting the sleeping chamber to the sitting room was open. They were still in the rooms assigned to Daenerys. Brienne had considered coaxing them back to her room but the dragons had already built their nests. Taking them to the room she'd been given would only have caused them to destroy more furniture. Not that it mattered to Brienne where the dragons slept. She'd paced the nights away just as effectively from Daenerys's sitting room as she would have from anywhere else. The threat of _Dragonbinder _had made sleep impossible, until last night.

She could see the dragons flying around the sitting room and out the open doors to the balcony. Griff was seated on the floor, his back resting against the ruined sofa, with Allwyn curled up in his lap. He'd changed out of the drab travel clothes he'd worn yesterday to a dark shirt, breeches and a leather jacket. Gallan flew around the room with manic energy while Ardayn and Serdun choose to sun themselves on the balcony. Catren was perched across from Griff, squawking animatedly, wings outspread, nearly bouncing with excitement.

Griff nodded and watched the brown dragon, a half-smile pulling up the corners of his mouth as it continued to chatter away. Finally, he pulled Catren into his arms and murmured to it. Brienne couldn't hear what he'd said but Catren melted into his side, trying to climb into his lap beside Allwyn. Allwyn squawked in protest, not wanting to share the comfortable position. Griff laughed.

"You're not small anymore," he insisted, loud enough for her to hear. "I can't hold you both at once."

Brienne pulled herself out of the comfortable bed. She hadn't paid attention to her surroundings when she'd fallen onto the cushions the night before. After four nights without sleep, her body had shut down as soon as it was allowed to. She could finally rest now that Griff was here. He would watch over the dragons just as diligently as she did. She was no longer alone in her duty to protect them.

Griff looked up and watched her stagger into the doorway. "Ahh, she awakes."

"How long did I sleep?" She studied the sun, high in the sky, outside the windows.

"As long as you needed," Griff answered simply.

Ardayn and Serdun rose when they heard her voice and came back into the room. Gallan screeched and threw itself enthusiastically into her arms. The air rushed out of her lungs as she took a step back to retain her balance. She carried the blue dragon into the sitting room and sat down beside Griff, Gallan still in her arms. Serdun settled into the cushions of its nest but laid its head on Brienne's shoulder. She stroked the green and orange dragon under its chin, where it liked it best. Ardayn also returned to its nest and, like Serdun, leaned forward. Ardayn wedged its head between Griff and Brienne, resting on both their shoulders. Brienne laughed as she released Gallan to wrap her arms around her two most ardent guards' necks.

"Five months," Griff noted. "It's been five months since we've been together."

"We both had responsibilities," Brienne pointed out. "You had to protect the dragons and I had to protect Lady Catelyn's daughters."

"You did a magnificent job," Griff praised. "Both of Catelyn Stark's daughters are back home, as is one of her sons. The Starks have regained their home and their bastard is now their king."

"I had nothing to do with that." Brienne stroked under Ardayn's chin as the silver-grey dragon shifted more of its weight onto them. "King Jon and Lady Sansa brought together the Northmen and the Knights of the Vale. Together, they retook Winterfell and freed the North of the vile Boltons."

Griff scowled even as he hugged Catren to his side. "I'm happy the Starks defeated the Boltons but I wanted Roose Bolton and Locke for myself."

Yes, she remembered the controlled rage in Griff's eyes when she told him about her near-rape and the ordeal of the bear pit. Roose Bolton and Locke were fortunate to have escaped his wrath. Griff wasn't mad as Ramsey Bolton had been but he carried the blood of the dragon. Like Drogon, he would leave behind no trace of his enemy.

"They're gone, as well," Brienne assured then changed the subject. "You did an extraordinary job with your responsibility, too. I'm amazed at how well-trained and disciplined the dragons are. How did you manage it? They're still so young."

She hugged Serdun closer. The green dragon remained in its nest but, like Ardayn, leaned more of its weight onto Brienne's shoulder.

"At first, they were upset you were gone," Griff recalled. "For weeks, while we were at sea, they refused to let me out of their sight. I had bruises and claw marks all over because they'd hold on so tightly. They were better when we landed in Valyria. I think being connected to the birthplace of the dragons, and visits from Drogon, helped."

"I wish I could explain to them why I left them." Though she tried mightily, Brienne couldn't keep her voice even. "I didn't want to leave but I had to fulfill my vow to Lady Catelyn." Her voice broke on the last word and tears filled her eyes.

Immediately the dragons, all six of them, gathered around to comfort her. Griff turned to face her, making space for Ardayn and Serdun to join them on the floor. Gallan pressed deeper into her lap while Catren shifted to settle on the other side. Even Allwyn, cozy in Griff's lap, leaned into Brienne to press its head against her shoulder.

"They do understand," she whispered. "How did they know?"

Griff looked at the dragons then rested his hands on Ardayn and Catren's backs, between their rows of spikes. "You forget how intuitive they are. They understood your emotions that last night we shared in Tyrosh. They knew how much it hurt you to leave us. You wouldn't have left us if there had been a choice. Honoring your vow, protecting the vulnerable, is a natural part of who you are. We who love you, will never seek to change you."

Brienne looked around at the six, basking in the heat and closeness they so generously shared with her. They weren't angry for her leaving them. They understood and accepted that her duty, her honor, was important. They'd let her go then immediately accepted her back when they were reunited. Her dragons were kind, forgiving and far more understanding than she'd expected.

She blinked rapidly to clear her eyes. "But how did you train them?"

"By training my men," Griff explained. "Soldiers need discipline and routine to perfect their skills. The dragons watched and learned from them. The discipline helped them, too. It gave them focus and, once I understood, it allowed me to teach them defensive formations with me as their center."

"Did you send them to me?" Brienne asked. "They came to me at Dragonstone."

"I heard about the call for sell sword to fight for Dorne." Griff's mouth tightened. "I knew that could only be trouble in Westeros. We left Valyria that same day. The dragons and I were back in Tyrosh by the time I got your message about parlay. I worried about you coming to King's Landing to deal with the Mad Queen and the Ironborn King."

"That's why you were able to answer my scroll so quickly," Brienne recalled. "I wondered about that. Was that when you sent the dragons?"

"I didn't send the dragons," Griff corrected. "We were crossing the Narrow Sea when Drogon found us. Either Drogon called to them, or they picked up your scent from Drogon, because they went after the big dragon. I tried to follow them but they flew straight up, until I couldn't see them anymore. I was in complete panic. I didn't know what had taken them."

That was the fear that ate at Brienne every moment, that had kept her from rest. _Dragonbinder_ could take the five from them. Griff had lived that horror, but at least he'd had the assurance that Drogon was with the five and would keep them safe. None of the dragons were safe from the horn that might be able to enslave them.

"I'm sorry you had to go through that. I sent you a raven as soon as I could. When did it get to you?" Brienne asked.

"It went to Tyrosh first them came to me," Griff explained. "I found out only hours after I landed in Westeros."

Brienne's eyes widened. "You've been in Westeros for as long as I've been in the southlands? Where were you?"

Griff hesitated then looked around. "Brienne, there are some things I can't tell you right now. It's not safe with so many people we can't trust around us. Please believe I'll tell you everything as soon as it's safe."

"Telling me where you were will compromise your safety?" Brienne questioned.

Griff hesitated again then gave her a very direct look. "No, it won't compromise _my_ safety."

He put a subtle emphasis on 'my' and Brienne's eyes widened. Suddenly, she understood. It wasn't the weather that had delayed the _Golden Company_. That was only the excuse they'd given Tyrion to disguise their actual arrival. They were the best fighting company in Essos, able to adapt to any surroundings. Griff was smart, battle-wise and planned into the future. The office in Tyrosh was not opened to take advantage of the gap left by the departure of the _Second Sons_. Griff had set up a base as close to Westeros as possible, to cross quickly when the time was right.

The company had taken on a former Lyseni pirate as their master-of-ships. They hadn't accepted the commission to guard the free cities from pirate attack because they needed gold. Griff knew his men had to learn to fight at sea and needed ships to cross the Narrow Sea, preferably ones that didn't look like military vessels. His army had used the commission to cover their true plans. They'd taken the pirate ships to build up their armada faster while also training their men to fight in the sea. The _Iron Fleet_ would bring over the bulk of his army but a large portion of the _Golden Company_ was already in Westeros.

"When?" Brienne demanded.

Griff didn't pretend to misunderstand her question. He didn't answer out loud but looked down at his hand on Ardayn's back. Brienne also looked to see him hold up his index finger. If anyone was listening, they wouldn't understand what Griff had just told her. The _Golden Company_ had landed in Westeros a month back. They had already begun to cross when Sansa received Harry Strickland's message for Davos, offering to back her in taking Westeros. Where the company men were and what they were doing was a mystery to Brienne. She looked back up at Griff's eyes. They were clear and intensely purple, boring into her as if trying to _will_ her to trust him.

She hesitated and nodded. There was nothing she could do until the _Golden Company_, her fellow officers and fighters, made their move. They would, quickly and efficiently, execute the mission Griff had sent them off to do. In the meantime, Griff had come to King's Landing, deliberately turning the council's, and if necessary, Daenerys's focus onto himself. He was the distraction that deflected attention from the company's actions. He'd come alone, knowing he was safe with the dragons to protect him.

King Aegon the Sixth had a clear plan to take Westeros from his aunt, Daenerys. But did he have an equally clear plan to serve the people once he had kingship?

Brienne took a deep breath and spoke. "There is nowhere safe in Westeros. Even for those living in King's Landing, life isn't guaranteed."

Griff frowned at her, his brows furrowed in confusion. Brienne told him about Cara, taking the dragons hunting, Ela and the orphans, the starving masses and the deep sense of despair among the war-weary people. Once she started to talk, she couldn't stop. There was too much suffering and hardship in the kingdom. Cersei hadn't cared but Griff would.

"You can change it. You will change it, won't you?" Brienne demanded. "How can we live in a world where a mother is forced to choose between her child and her own survival? How can people ignore the plight of helpless orphans?"

Griff nodded. "Yes, Brienne, I will take care of the people. I just need time to organize and –"

"Some people don't have time," she interrupted. "You've seen the capital. It's better than many places I've been to in the North. The Riverlands are a graveyard. Women and children huddled together in hovels because they dare not be seen by the bands of marauders. Septons and silent brothers digging up the ground to find roots and bugs to feed the starving. Wells and streams so filled with blood that the water isn't safe to drink. Farmers who kill the hungry trying to steal what little crop they have because they're also hungry. Babies dying in the streets because they have no one to nurse them. The –"

"Brienne, stop!" Griff ordered.

Brienne stopped. She was gasping for breath but there was so much more she wanted to tell him. He was her king, he'd promised her he would take care of the people, feed the hungry, shelter the homeless and care for the forgotten. He _must_. That is what a just king would do.

Griff had let her speak until she ran out of air. Now he cupped her face and leaned closer.

"Brienne, I know how dire the situation is," he assured her. "I've gotten reports from my spies. But I cannot help the people until I solidify my position. Without the respect and loyalty of the remaining Lords, my ideas aren't enough to feed and shelter the people."

"But you have plans?" she demanded, looking straight into his Targaryen purple eyes. "You've created a strategy to help the people?"

He released her face and nodded. "I have. Look at this."

He turned around and reached back to the small, cushioned chair Missandei had favored when she was in Daenerys's chambers. Brienne hadn't noticed the new dress until Griff brought down to her. After many days of Stark grey and Targaryen black and red, the seamstress had given her a modified gown of silver-blue with white swirls, a near-exact match to Ardayn's coloring.

"Another dress," Brienne noted. "I asked the dressmaker not to bring me more but she pleaded to be allowed to make me new gowns. She said they suited me."

Griff smiled. "She was right. I noticed your dress and longer hair when I arrived yesterday."

"It annoys me but the dragons like it," Brienne explained.

Almost as if demonstrating her point, Serdun leaned into her and rubbed its head against her hair. Then the green and orange dragon rose in a perfect vertical lift and went back to the balcony. Ardayn ruffled its wings and also went back to the balcony but refrained from mussing Brienne's hair on the way.

"I like your hair, too," Griff agreed, "and the dresses do suit you. But that's not the reason the dressmaker wanted to continue making them for you. What does she get from making dresses, Brienne?"

Brienne blinked then nodded with understanding. "She gets coin. I didn't think of that, since I didn't pay her. Daenerys arranged for the dresses. She, Missandei and I wore the same style, but in different colors and patterns."

Griff frowned. "Daenerys was trying to build ties to you, show the people that you were united."

Daenerys had done more than that. She had openly claimed Brienne as her kin, been generous in her praise, knighted her and trusted Brienne to represent her in Dorne. The matching dresses had been the most obvious sign of the queen's claim but her every gesture had indicated her faith in Brienne. Faith that would now be broken because Brienne was sworn to her nephew and not to the Dragon Queen. The realization made her heart ache.

"Yes, she was but she was also creating work for the dressmaker," Brienne reminded him. "The woman was paid for her work."

"Correct. What will the dressmaker do with the coin?" Griff prompted.

Brienne stared at him. "She'll use it to buy the things she needs."

"Exactly," he agreed. "There isn't enough food to feed all the people, but there is enough trade and shipments to feed those who have coin to buy food. So, the dressmaker buys fish, then the fishmonger now has coin to buy new clothes from the dressmaker or shoes from the cobbler. Once the cobbler had coins from his trade, he has money to buy food. And the cycle continues."

Brienne took a moment to think through Griff's words. "So, your plan is to create work for those who are in trade and have skills. That will allow them to buy each other's products so they will all have fish, dresses and shoes. Will that work?"

"It's working for the blacksmiths," Griff noted. "They've been laboring day and night since you and the dragons released the Valyrian steel weapons. They're also forging arrows and swords from dragonglass. Not only do they have coins to buy food and shoes, they've also brought on helpers to clean and polish while they perform the skilled work. So, now some unskilled workers also have coins. We continue that process with more work for more people."

"If it's so easy to lift people up, why didn't Cersei do it?" Brienne puzzled.

Griff scowled. "The Lannisters don't care about the smallfolk. Cersei wanted to buy armies and conquer more territory. Tyrion wants to create his own empire and Jaime, well, he has no idea what he wants. They know nothing about building people up, only how to tear people down."

Brienne ignored his bitterness and focused on Griff's words. While the kingdom didn't have large amounts of gold to pay off the debts of war, they did have some coin to sustain trade. But, even if the citizens had coin, was there enough food to trade for that coin?

Gallan used the silence to spread its wings. The blue dragon flew off to join Serdun and Ardayn sunning themselves on the balcony. Catren, sitting beside them, cried plaintively. Griff lifted Allwyn, a dead weight in his lap, and transferred the blue-grey dragon to Brienne. Allwyn barely moved as it sunk into Brienne's lap. Catren squawked excitedly as it settled in Griff's arms. The brown dragon flattened against his chest, wrapping its neck around his head and humming with contentment.

Brienne's heart ached as she watched them. The last time they'd been together, five months ago, the dragons had been too small to wrap around them as Catren did with Griff and Allwyn did with Selwyn. Soon the dragons would be too big for them to even hold. Perhaps they may even grow as large as Drogon. If they were allowed to grow, if they could overcome the difficulties facing the kingdom: war, starvation and infighting.

"There isn't enough food from trade to feed all the people," she pointed out. "My father and many of the lords in the Stormlands have gathered together to care for the needy in their lands."

"Not every lord is as generous and as caring as your father, Brienne," Griff reminded her. "Plus, the Stormlands aren't densely populated. It's easier to share with a smaller population."

"Then what are your plans for caring for the people in other regions and for the poor here in the capital?" she asked. "There are those who cannot work."

He opened his mouth to reply when a knock on the door interrupted him. Gallan squawked but remained on the balcony while Ardayn and Serdun looked up with interest. Catren and Allwyn, cuddled in Griff and Brienne's arms, barely even moved.

"It has to be Podrick,' Brienne surmised. "The dragons wouldn't be this relaxed if it were anyone but him."

Griff nodded then lifted his head to look over the sofa. "Enter!"

Podrick opened the door, his eyes bright with excitement. "Your Grace, my Lady Ser, we found something to show you."

Hope shot through Brienne like an electric charge. She rose, almost tumbling Allwyn out of her lap. The blue-grey dragon squawked in protest. Brienne quickly sat back down, resting her hand on the nearly-sleeping dragon.

"Did you find _Dragonbinder_?" Brienne demanded.

Podrick's excitement dimmed. "No, my Lady Ser. But we did find something very special that you must see."

"What is it?' Griff got up with Catren still in his arms.

"I won't spoil it." Podrick grinned and shook his head, his excitement returning. "It's a very good surprise, that my Lady Ser will be thrilled to see. Will you come now?"

Brienne nodded and shifted Allwyn to the sofa. The dragon yelped in protest but Brienne rose anyway. Gallan flew into the room. Podrick braced himself as the dragon draped itself across his shoulders. Ardayn and Serdun came to join them, alert now that the others, minus Allwyn, were preparing to leave.

"In a minute, Podrick," Griff agreed. He looked sideways at Brienne. "Brienne needs to change. It would be a shame not to wear such a pretty, and important, dress."

* * *.

A short time later, Brienne, Griff, Podrick and the dragons entered the council chamber. Tyrion, Jaime, Bronn and surprisingly, Sandor, were all gathered at the center table. Tyrion was seated at the end, in the chair normally used by Daenerys. Jaime was sitting at his brother's side, silent and still with his head down. Bronn and Sandor were standing, inspecting the neat row of Valyrian steel swords lining the table.

Bronn and Sandor nodded when they entered but neither Tyrion or Jaime rose when Griff came into the room. Tyrion lifted his chin, as if daring Griff to comment on his breach of protocol. All citizens were required to stand when the king or queen entered. Tyrion had always stood for Jon and had spent much of his life in court. He knew the rules and was deliberately flaunting them. Jaime didn't even appear to notice they'd entered, even when the dragons flew in.

Griff ignored Tyrion to study the swords on the table. The dragons flew to their favorite spot by the windows, comfortable in their surroundings and with the men in the room. Brienne was torn between being affronted for her king and worry about Jaime. But no matter her feelings, her duty was to her king.

"You're supposed to stand in the presence of the king," she reminded sharply.

Tyrion hesitated and looked over to the dragons. They remained calm, not sensing tension in the room. Griff casually picked up one of the wickedly sharp swords and held it at arm's length, testing its balance.

"I thank you for your defense, Brienne," Griff said easily, "but it's unfair for a woman of your stature to school one so beneath you."

Tyrion flushed. "Is that a comment about my height or lack of it?"

"No," Griff responded in the same easy tone, "it's a comment about your lack of honor."

Tyrion's face reddened even more as he pushed his chair away from the table. His feet had just landed on the floor when Griff's snicker stopped him. The Hand froze and glared at Griff.

"See, Brienne?" Griff swung the sword in a lazy figure eight. "He does stand before his king. You may be seated, Lord Hand."

Griff deliberately turned his back on Tyrion before the dwarf could scramble back into his seat. Tyrion fumed with anger as he sat back down. Bronn watched the exchange with a faint smirk on his face, then appeared to be deeply engrossed in the swords when Brienne glared at him. Sandor shook his head and muttered under his breath but kept his attention on the table.

And still, Jaime didn't react.

"Ser Jaime," Brienne called out to him but received no reaction. She raised her voice. "Ser Jaime!"

Jaime jerked and turned to face her. Brienne gasped. The right side of his face was bruised. He had red welts along his neck, swelling on his cheek and the blood pooled under his eye made the skin look black. Jaime's expression was almost as wounded as his face. His eyes were dark and haunted. His entire face drooped, making him look old and haggard.

"I told Cersei our decision to send her and Ser Gregor to Dorne," Jaime announced, his voice flat and hollow. He looked back down at the table.

Tyrion looked at his brother with obvious concern. "She didn't take it well."

"Did you think she would?" Griff seated himself at the other end of the table, in the chair Jon normally used. "Did you send word to Manfrey Martell? Will he trade Cersei and Gregor for a ceasefire?"

Tyrion glared at Griff and refused to answer. Brienne, who would normally have taken a seat at the table, chose to stand behind her king's shoulder.

"King Aegon asked you a question, Lord Tyrion," she spoke sharply. "He's working to protect the people of Westeros and avoid war with Dorne. Need I remind you your queen commanded you to do the same? Will you risk further smears to your reputation to appease your anger?"

Tyrion looked up at her briefly then looked back at Griff.

Griff leaned back in the chair, supremely relaxed. "Do you wish to be known as yet another Lannister who cared more for himself than for the people? Do you think your attitude will save you from your queen's wrath?"

Jaime, normally quick to defend his brother, reminded silent. The glittering anger in Tyrion's eyes faded as alarm replaced it. Still the Hand took a deep breath and spoke in a calm tone.

"Perhaps you should also consider your actions," Tyrion suggested. "My queen won't take your claims lightly."

"What claims?" Griff demanded. "I've made no claims. I've offered my assistance since you're clearly unable to run the city on your own."

"So, you have no intention of trying to take King's Landing?" Tyrion didn't bother to hide the disbelief in his expression.

Griff leaned forward, still at ease. "I will never try to take King's Landing, Lord Hand. I assure you."

Brienne knew there was no 'try' involved. When Griff was ready to take the capital, he would take it. But he was holding back, keeping Tyrion's focus on him so the _Golden Company_ could complete their mission without interruption or distractions. What did Griff want that was more valuable than taking the capital of Westeros? Whatever it was, it wasn't as immediate problem as many others.

"Lord Hand, have you had word on _Dragonbinder_?" Brienne asked. She looked at Bronn and Sandor. "You've both returned from your inquires. What have you learned?"

The hostility faded from Tyrion's expression as he was reminded of the threat hanging over the dragons and, by extension, over all of Westeros. Bronn and Sandor exchanged grim glances before turning to face Brienne.

"Nothing," Bronn admitted. "I've been to so many brothels, I started to see the same men over and over. Everyone talked about the dragons but no one boasted about having a weapon to control them. They would have talked. I paid the whores enough to make the men very relaxed. Believe me, no man is as boastful as he is when his pants are down and a naked whore is holding his co—"

"Bronn!" Tyrion hissed. "We don't need the graphic details."

"Concentration. I was going to say concentration," Bronn insisted. "Men talk freely when they're distracted."

Sandor snorted while Griff glared at Bronn. Podrick's cheek pinkened but Jaime remained silent and detached from their conversation. Brienne didn't bother to be embarrassed. All that mattered to her was that Bronn hadn't found word about the terrible horn.

"What about you?" She turned to Sandor. "Have you heard anything?"

Sandor shook his head. "No, it could be whoever took the horn isn't in the city anymore."

"Do you think they smuggled the horn to Dorne?" Podrick wondered. "Do they still expect us to parlay there?"

"That depends." Griff turned his glare onto Tyrion. "Lord Tyrion, we don't have time for your petty behavior. The dragons are at risk. Did you or did you not send a raven to Dorne?"

Tyrion nodded, more of his resentment fading. "I did."

"When?" Griff demanded.

"Yesterday, after we spoke," Tyrion admitted. "Once Jaime agreed to send Cersei and Gregor to Dorne."

"Good," Griff released his breath on a heavy exhale. "We'll know soon if our token of goodwill has been accepted."

Jaime finally looked at them. "My sister is not a token of goodwill."

"No, she's not," Griff agreed. "There's no good in her at all. But the Dornish might find a use for her."

Jaime rose from the table, color flushing into his bruised face. He glared at Griff. Brienne looked from Griff to Jaime, seeing the tension building in both men. Jaime had made the terrible choice to let go of his sister, the other half of himself. The decision had forced Jaime to accept the truth of who Cersei really was and the harm she'd caused him. He'd chosen to break free of her poisonous influence but it was a phyric victory. Jaime was tearing apart his own soul to do it.

Judging by his aching grief, it didn't even matter to Jaime that he hadn't really had a choice. Griff would send Cersei, regardless of Jaime's decision, if it brought a ceasefire with Dorne. The death of the daughter of the man who'd ordered his sister and mother's murders wouldn't matter to Griff. Seeing the telltale darkening in Griff's eyes, Brienne hurried to distract them.

"Podrick, you said you had something special to show me," Brienne spoke up. "What is it?"

Podrick, who had moved near the side table, nodded. He stepped aside to reveal a longsword with an exceptionally long hilt laid out on the surface. Podrick carefully carried the sword over to the main table.

"My Lady Ser, you said you dreamt of holding a lightning bolt among Valyrian steel." Podrick glowed with his excitement. "Was this what you saw?"

Brienne stepped forward to examine the sword as Podrick laid it on the table. The long hilt was wrapped in neatly repaired black leather banded with purple cords. Unlike most swords, this one had an unusually decorative pommel consisting of five four-pointed stars linked in an arch extending past the sides of the hilt. Podrick pointed to the imprint on the base of the sword, where the steel met the leather. An image of a forked lightning bolt surrounded by four-pointed stars was impressed into the steel. Brienne carefully wrapped her hand around the hilt and felt a jolt run up the length of her arm.

She released the sword instantly and stepped back, gasping. As she did, the dragons screeched, spreading their wings and puffing their bodies. They had sensed the jolt passing thought her. Griff rose from the table, looking from her to the dragons then back. Bronn, Sandor and Tyrion also stared at her. Even Jaime looked up, his eyes widening.

"My Lady Ser, what is it?" Podrick looked from her to the sword then back to her.

"Brienne, what happened?" Griff demanded, leaning forward to study the sword.

"I felt a jolt," Brienne explained. "It raced up my arm."

She held out her arm. The fine hairs stood on end. Brienne looked around, searching for an explanation for the unsettling sensation. Griff looked past her to the dragons. She also turned to them. The five folded their wings and relaxed. Whatever had caused the thrill of excitement had passed without disturbing them further. Bronn and Sandor came closer to inspect the sword.

"It happened when you touched the sword," Bronn noted. "Maybe it has magic in it."

"Or it could be that Lady Ser Brienne's dress is heavy material," Tyrion suggested drily as he came down to join them. "I've felt a charge touching metal if I've worn heavy fabric."

Bronn studied Brienne's gown then grinned at Tyrion. "I can't see you in her dress but a man is entitled to his pleasures. I can suggest a brothel that's perfect for you."

Tyrion glared at him then pointed to the mark impressed on the blade. "That's the sigil for House Dondarrion. Their house goes back to the days before Aegon the First."

Griff nodded. "I recognize it. The story is that the first lord was a messenger. He was ambushed delivering a message for his king. The man thought he would die in the attack but a bolt of lightning struck his attackers, killing both. The messenger delivered his important message and was made the first Lord Dondarrion for his troubles."

"I know Beric Dondarrion," Sandor offered. "I traveled with him and the _Brotherhood without Banners_. They protected the Riverlands and fought north of the Wall in Jon Snow's army when we caught the wight."

"Did this Beric ever mention his family's ancient Valyrian steel sword?" Griff asked.

"Beric doesn't need a Valyrian steel sword," Sandor scoffed. "He lights his sword with his own blood."

Shock went through them, except the dragons. The dragons remained relaxed by the windows, wings outstretched, as they sunned themselves. The humans all stared at Sandor.

"You say he can light his sword with his blood?" Tyrion repeated. "Does King Jon know about this?"

"Aye, Jon Snow saw him do it," Sandor confirmed. "When we were fighting. I killed him, you know."

"Beric Dondarrion?" Tyrion asked. "You killed him fighting north of the Wall? Why?"

"No, I killed him when I first met him," Sandor explained. "The little Stark girl, Arya, accused me of murder. Beric fought me in a trial by combat." Sandor's smirk of satisfaction looked odd on his usually morose face. "He lost."

"You killed Beric when you were still with Arya Stark _then_ you fought with him north of the Wall with Jon Snow?" Brienne summarized carefully. "How is that possible?"

"He said the Lord of Light keeps bringing him back," Sandor grunted. "I saw the priest bring him back with my own eyes after I killed him."

Brienne looked around to gage everyone's reactions to Sandor's news. Jaime and Tyrion still looked startled while Bronn whistled softly with what could almost be admiration. Griff continued to regard Sandor, as if unsure to believe him.

"You saw Beric brought back to life?" Brienne repeated.

Sandor nodded. "I nearly cut his arm completely off and killed him. Then I turn around and he's alive again, his arm healed like I hadn't touched him at all. None of the brothers were surprised. It wasn't the first time."

Griff's expression grew thoughtful. "So, House Dondarrion was started by a bolt of lightning, the current lord is kept alive by the Lord of Light and Brienne dreamt of holding a lightning bolt, perhaps to indicate the significance of this sword."

"My Lady Ser!" Podrick gasped. "You didn't just dream it. You were told it, too, by the Red Priestess."

Brienne stiffened. "You're right, Podrick. 'I see you floating between the sun and a star, running with wolves and lions, soaring with dragons and eagles, parting the blackest clouds and _holding lightning in your hand'_."

"Yes," Podrick confirmed. "Those were the Red Priestess's words. You're meant to have this sword. This is your lightning."

Griff smiled. "_Lightning_ a fine sword and a powerful name, Brienne. A single streak of lighting can split the world, change a man's fate and create a _Firestorm_."

Brienne hadn't missed Griff's reference to his Valyrian steel sword. He hadn't brought _Firestorm_ with him to King's Landing. She suspected he'd soon retrieve it, once the _Golden Company_ was in place for his taking of Westeros.

"It's a far better sword than _Oathkeeper_, which carries the symbol of the Lannisters and their treacheries." Griff looked hard at Jaime before turning back to Brienne. "An honorable knight of the Seven Kingdoms, such as you are, shouldn't carry the symbol of such reviled oath breakers."

Brienne looked over to Jaime. He lowered his head but not before she saw the hurt and sadness in his eyes. Without her to remind him, Jaime constantly forgot he was a man of honor and a warrior for the Gods. They would not have repeatedly saved him if they didn't need him to fight for them in the Great War.

Podrick gently touched the hilt of the sword then looked at Brienne. "My Lady Ser, the sword didn't create any strange feelings for me," he said. "Perhaps whatever it was the startled you is finished now."

Brienne gingerly touched the handle but felt no jolt. She wrapped her hand around the hilt and lifted the sword off the table. The Valyrian steel rippled in the sunlight, reflecting light like a hundred captured stars. The sense of rightness she felt holding was indescribable. Still…

She put the sword down. "No, I cannot have this sword."

Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Jaime look up, surprise and guarded hope in his expression. Brienne gently touched the markings on the sword.

"Most of the Valyrian swords taken from the great houses can't be returned. Many of the houses no longer exist." She gently stroked the sigil. "This sword belongs to House Dondarrion. It's up to Lord Beric to determine its fate. We must return it to him." She looked Griff directly in the eyes. "That is what an honorable knight would do."

Griff smiled, a mixture of pride and approval in his purple eyes. "So be it. But it will continue to be known as _Lightning_, the name it was honored with, by one of the noblest knights in the Seven Kingdoms."

Brienne returned his smile, warmth blooming inside her and coloring her cheeks. Behind her, the dragons squawked and flapped their wings, though they didn't attempt to fly to her. They'd sensed her pride and were expressing their equally strong admiration for their mother. Brienne went to them and felt even greater warmth when they surrounded her with their magical heat.

Knocking on the door drew her attention. The dragons remained calm but also looked towards the sound. Tyrion opened the door to reveal a young boy, pale and shaking as he bowed to the Hand to the Queen.

"Begging your forgiveness, Lord Hand." The servant spoke to Tyrion but stared at the dragons. "There's a group here wanting to meet with King Jon."

"Did you tell them King Jon isn't here?" Tyrion asked.

He repeated his question but the boy couldn't look away from the dragons. Griff rose and moved to block the boy's view of Brienne and the five as Tyrion waved his hands in the boy's face. The servant jerked as if coming out of a trance.

"Did you tell them King Jon isn't here?" Tyrion repeated.

The boy nodded vigorously. "Yes, my Lord, I did. They want to know where King Jon is now so they can meet him. Their leader says it's urgent they meet with the king."

"Did he say why is was so urgent?" Tyrion demanded.

Again, the boy nodded. "Yes, my Lord. He said he might have a way to stop the war."

"What?" Brienne left the dragons to join Griff and Tyrion by the door. "How?"

The servant looked at Brienne then at the dragons behind her. "I don't know, my Lady Ser. He only said he might have a way to stop the war, if he can meet with King Jon."

"Who is this man?" Griff demanded.

"I don't know, your Grace," The poor boy was now sweating. "But…"

"But what?" Griff prompted.

The boy gathered his courage and blurted out. "But he looks just like you, your Grace."

Brienne looked from the servant to Griff. He looked back at her, his normally expressive eyes blank, his face wiped clean of expression. A man with Targaryen looks was here to meet Jon Snow. A man who claimed to have a way to stop one of the terrible wars threatening to destroy all of Westeros.

"_The dragon must have three heads."_

Hope filled Brienne. Perhaps this man held the key to defeating the Night King. Three children with the blood of Queen Rhaella had been prophesied. Daenerys and Griff were daughter and grandson of the queen's bloodline. But there must be another. Could this man be the last Targaryen?

Brienne looked past Griff to the others. The dragons were still calm, Sandor's expression had returned to his usual bored disinterest, Tyrion and Jamie exchanged confused glances and Bronn frowned as he looked at the servant. She looked back to Griff, barely able to contain the hope and excitement building inside her.

Until she saw Griff's expression. His eyes were cool and clear, his features perfectly set and his mouth turned up slightly at the corners. He looked like a fallen angel, beautiful and savage, smug and sure, satisfied with himself and his circumstances. And she knew. Griff had planned this. This man wasn't here to help them save Westeros.

Griff was ready to claim his heritage.


	34. Curiosity Keeper

The Keeper

Chapter 34 – Curiosity Keeper

Everyone in the council room was silent as the frightened servant continued to stare past Brienne to the dragons. Brienne barely noticed, too focused on what the servant had just told them. A man who looked like Griff was here to offer a possible way to avert war. If she hadn't gotten a good night's sleep, Brienne would have thought she was hallucinating. This was the answer to her prayers, a chance to stop the bloodshed before it even began. But which war?

She looked to Griff again. The smug satisfaction was gone and now his expression was cool and composed. Griff hadn't had enough information about the Army of the Dead to formulate a plan to fight them. Yesterday, she and Podrick had taken turns telling him about all that had occurred while they were apart. Griff hadn't yet seen a Wight, but had nodded acceptingly when Brienne had explained about the creature. He'd seen the truth in her eyes as she described the visceral fear she'd felt when she saw it. The dragons had squawked anxiously when she'd described how they'd flow all the way from Dragonstone to protect her from it.

Then, his expression had been serious and grim. Now, his eyes glittered with satisfaction and his lips curved gently. Did Griff's smug smile mean he had a plan to avert war with Dorne, maybe even circumvent Manfrey Martell's demands? The castellan of Sunspear wanted to parlay in Dorne, where he had the advantage of territory and men. Brienne had tried to reason with Griff to make the trip, reminding him he and the _Golden Company_ had successfully protected her and the dragons before.

No amount of logic had swayed him. Worse, his tension had transmitted to the dragons, who'd puffed and surrounded them, hissing at shadows, sensing the grim fear Griff tried to hide from them. He had refused her arguments, adamant that she and the dragons wouldn't go into Dornish territory. It was an unnecessary risk if they could bring the Dornish to them. He was confident offering Cersei and Gregor to Dorne would bring Manfrey to King's Landing.

"We'll meet them in the Throne Room," Griff said. "Bring them directly."

"Why the Throne Room?" Tyrion demanded. "Why not here?"

"He said a group had arrived. Do you really want that many unfamiliar men enclosed in a small space with very protective dragons?" Griff asked him.

Tyrion looked at the dragons then nodded to the servant. The boy bowed deeply and ran from the room. The relief in his expression would have been amusing if it hadn't been mixed with such terror. The natural fear of dragons, combined with the stories of what Drogon had done to the Lannister army, kept people afraid. No matter how much Brienne stressed the young dragons only defended, not attacked, people still feared them. Even the dragons bringing meat into the capital hadn't lessened their fearful reactions.

Everyone was silent as they walked to the Throne Room. Brienne watched their expressions as they made the journey. Griff's face remained composed, head held high and shoulders straight. Tyrion alternated between frowning at Griff and nodding to the guards as they passed. Jaime seemed to have sunk back into his depression, looking ahead without interest or light in his eyes. Bronn and Podrick watched the dragons, far faster fliers than they were walkers, soar along the hallway. Sandor had his usual look of boredom, rolling his eyes at the frightened servants ducking into hallways and vacant rooms as they passed.

Once in the Throne Room, the dragons squawked and raced around the large, empty hall. It was still sunny from the smaller windows around the room but the main window behind the remains of the Iron Throne was shrouded in heavy, black material. A seven-pointed star of the Faith had been painted on the fabric. The material was so thick barely any sunlight pierced it, effectively concealing the roaring lion sigil behind it.

"The glass maker has already started work on the replacement window," Tyrion explained, seeing her staring at the cloth. "I thought it best to give the work to the same man. He wasn't paid for the last window nor was he at fault."

"Excellent work, Lord Hand."

Brienne looked over at Griff, surprised he had complimented Tyrion. Judging from Tyrion's raised eyebrows, he was startled, too. Griff gestured to the covered window.

"You not only arranged to pay the glass maker and ease his worry, you also found a temporary solution to cover the offending window." Griff nodded. "I noticed the cloth outside, too, when I took the dragons out to the bay this morning."

"I didn't expect to receive compliments from you," Tyrion said.

Griff raised his eyebrows in his Daenerys-like manner. "Perhaps I judged you too harshly, son of Tywin."

Tyrion winced at the reminder of his father. Jaime, still lost in his daze, didn't respond. Bronn looked between the Lannister brothers then began to walk down the long hall. Sandor, seeing the dragons were racing around the far end of the hall, cautiously followed Bronn. Podrick grinned at Tyrion, his former master.

"My Lady Ser and I spent last evening telling the king about what we've been doing," Podrick explained. "He now understands how hard you've been working for the kingdom."

Tyrion frowned, clearly not believing Podrick's assurance, but the rumble of footsteps coming down the hall distracted him. They all turned to face the doors as the servant opened them for the new visitors. A group of two dozen men came in, all clad in black shirts and breeches, with swords on their hips. The first to enter was an older man with well-tanned skin and short greying dark hair. The last to enter was a young man with pale blond hair, eyes so deeply blue they were almost purple and startlingly beautiful, symmetrical features.

The dragons screeched, flying back to them. The five lined up beside Tyrion, a barrier between their family and the unfamiliar men. Brienne, Podrick and Griff were directly behind them, while Bronn, Sandor and Jaime stood further back. Like the rest of the council members, they stared at the youngest man. The visitors stopped in their tracks, eyes wide, as they stared back at the dragons. Automatically, they reached for their swords. The dragons hissed, wings outspread, making themselves as large as possible.

"No, don't take out your swords," Tyrion ordered, hand raised as if he could physically dissuade the men. "The drogons only attack in defense. They won't harm you unless you mean us harm."

The men looked at each other then slowly moved their hands off their swords. Normally, Brienne would have told the men to remain calm but she was too focused on Griff's reaction. The smugness had faded from Griff's eyes, replaced by startled shock, as he stared at the younger man who looked so much like him. Their appearances were so alike they could be brothers. Griff was older and harder, testament to a harsh life lived in the world. The younger man had a gentleness about him that suggested a sheltered background or a sunny disposition.

Tyrion also looked between the two blond, purple-eyed men. When both continued to stare at each other, neither speaking, Tyrion cleared his throat.

"I'm Tyrion Lannister, Hand to Queen Daenerys," he introduced himself.

The two purple-eyed men continued to stare at each other silently. Bronn shrugged and moved closer to Podrick.

"Those two think they're looking into a mirror," Bronn nodded to them, "and can't stop staring at themselves."

Sandor snorted but Tyrion looked over his shoulder to glare at them. He turned back to the men when the tallest one, slim but well-muscled with blond hair and fair skin, moved forward.

"I'm Daeron Vaith," he introduced. "We have come to meet with Jon Snow, the King in the North."

Tyrion's eyes lit up. "Lord Daeron of House Vaith of Dorne?"

Daeron nodded. "Aye."

Tyrion looked delighted but Griff's face paled as he studied the Lord of the Red Dunes. House Vaith had fought against King Aegon the First and his sister-wives. Queen Rhaenys had flown to Vaith on the back of her dragon, Meraxes. It had been the first location she'd landed in the Targaryen's assault on Dorne. Rhaenys and Meraxes were killed after they'd been brought down in the Dornish sand.

King Aegon and Queen Visenya, riding their dragons Balerion and Vhagar, had destroyed Castle Vaith in their grief and rage. They'd taken revenge but it had been cold comfort for the loss of the sister they'd both loved so dearly. Griff looked from Daeron to her, his eyes stark and fearful, as if he were thinking of the same events she was. The young dragons, sensing his fear and tension, growled and puffed up to face the unseen threat. Now Brienne better understood why Griff had been so against sending her and the dragons to Dorne.

The Dornishmen looked at the dragons. Seeing the five puff aggressively, the men instinctively went for their swords. Tyrion's eyes widened and he stepped forward, putting himself ahead of the dragons.

"Welcome, my Lord, to King's Landing," Tyrion greeted quickly. "King Jon is traveling north with Queen Daenerys to protect us all from the threat beyond the Wall."

Daeron grunted. "Your king fights fairy tales while we face a true threat."

"My Lord, the threat beyond the wall is real," Tyrion insisted. "We've seen it."

Daeron's men looked at each other then looked back at Tyrion.

"We hear stories of the dead who walk," Daeron said.

"I fought them," Sandor growled. He held himself tall and sure. "We went north of the Wall. There was over one hundred thousand of those things and their king who brought the winter storms. We took dragons, an army, even a man who can light his sword with his own blood but we couldn't defeat them. Any dead in Westeros can be their soldiers, even Dornishmen."

The men looked startled, their eyes wide and their bodies instinctively leaning back. Whether it was a reaction to Sandor's scars or his story, was uncertain. The dragons growled again as the tension rose. The Dornishmen looked down at the five, all except the youngest man.

"Lord Beric?" the purple-eyed man spoke. "Lord Beric was with you? Is he well?"

The young man addressed Sandor, finally breaking from staring at Griff. His expression, which had been cool while he studied Griff, warmed considerably.

"Aye," Sandor nodded. "He fought well and continues to guard Eastwatch-by-the Sea, waiting for the Night King to move his army of bones against the living."

"Then it's true," the man said. "He sent me a scroll, telling of terrible creatures coming to take us all."

Tyrion looked at Griff, who remained uncharacteristically silent. Apparently, he was content to allow Tyrion to lead the conversation. Tyrion straightened and turned back to the man.

"Yes, the threat is very real. The Night's Watch has been fighting this threat for many months. We believe it's only a matter of time before the Night King and his Army of the Dead march upon the living. Lord Beric speaks true, Lord…" Tyrion let his voice taper off questioningly.

The young man straightened and raised his chin, almost defiantly. "I am Lord Edric Dayne, of Starfall."

Jamie jerked, as if Edric's words were a shock to his system. Color flushed into his face, reviving Jamie, as he stepped forward. He was closer to the Dornishmen but still behind the protection of the dragons' defensive live.

"Starfall," Jaime repeated, new energy in his voice. "You're Ser Arthur Dayne's nephew?"

"I was," Edric confirmed, "until he died at the Tower of Joy."

"Ser Arthur was the very best of us, of the Kingsguard," Jaime said quietly, some of the color and energy dissipating. "His death was a great tragedy."

"It was more than a tragedy, it was a curiosity," Edric said. "The greatest swordsman in the Seven Kingdoms was killed in battle, then the man who killed him returned our family sword. _Dawn_ is beyond price, the only sword of its kind in existence, made from the heart of a fallen star. There is none like it in the entire world. What kind of man returns a priceless heirloom to his vanquished foe's family?"

Tyrion frowned, as if sensing a trap in Edric's words. "A man of unquestionable honor, such as Lord Stark was."

Edric nodded. "A man of unquestionable honor, who claimed Joffrey Baratheon wasn't the true son of Robert Baratheon. Lord Stark recanted his claim and lost his head for it." Edric looked from Tyrion to Jaime. "Was his claim true?"

Jaime hesitated then nodded. "It was."

Edric nodded. "Ser Beric said Jon Snow is as honorable as his father. His word is truth and his promises are sealed in his blood. Is that also true?"

This time Jaime nodded easily. "Yes, it is."

"Ser Beric is betrothed to my Aunt Allyria. I was his squire and traveled with the _Brotherhood without Banners_," Edric explained. "Lord Beric sent me home when he deemed the Riverlands too dangerous for the only heir to Starfall."

Jaime nodded. "War kills men of honor and leaves only despair behind."

"Indeed, it does." Edric paused and took a deep breath. "Shortly after Lord Ned Stark came to Starfall, bringing the terrible news of my uncle's death, my Aunt Ashara killed herself. Some say it was in despair over the death of her brother, Arthur."

"I'm sorry." Grief cut into Jaime's features, pulling his mouth and jaw down. "I couldn't believe it when I heard he'd been killed in battle. No one had ever beaten him before. He was the greatest knight in all of the Seven Kingdoms, if not the world."

"Yet he was defeated by a man with less skill, less training and an inferior sword." Edric paused again. "A man who's name I carry."

"What?" Jaime's mouth dropped open.

"My name is Edric but my family calls me Ned," Ned Dayne explained. "Curious isn't it that the name of the man who caused us such grief is also my name?"

Shock went through the council members. Brienne and Podrick exchanged wide-eyed glances, Jaime and Tyrion did the same. Bronn looked around, as if unsure how to react. Even Sandor paid attention, his mouth pulled into a frown. Only Griff didn't react, his face carefully blank as he watched Ned.

"Why?" Tyrion asked, his voice low. "Why would your family name you after Ned Stark?"

Ned paused for a long moment, looking at each council member before stopping on Griff. Ned's gaze hardened. Griff's expression remained blank, his body nearly perfectly still.

"I have a theory," Ned said finally. "Perhaps my aunt didn't die from despair. Might she have died in childbirth? But she was an unmarried woman, from a noble house. She would never bear a bastard. No taint has ever touched House Dayne, even after my aunt's death. Could that be the reason why my parents spoke Ned Stark's name with admiration to their last days, why his name carries on in my family?"

Ned paused. Brienne looked around to gage everyone's reactions. The men with Ned were calm and composed. This story was not new to them. Podrick, Sandor and even Bronn remained silent. Griff blinked rapidly but that was his only reaction. Jaime's face paled while Tyrion pressed his lips into a flat line. No one spoke, gazes fixed on the determined young Lord of Starfall.

"Did Ned Stark, instead of allowing a single drop of dishonor to taint House Dayne, take the burden, and the babe, upon himself?" Ned questioned. "Did he destroy his own honor to protect my family and my aunt's reputation? House Dayne enjoys unparalleled status, going back to the Age of Heroes, while Ned Stark's reputation was forever besmirched, his character stained, no matter how honorable his later actions."

"He…he didn't lose his head for speaking false," Tyrion explained. "He was a threat to Joffrey's reign."

"The death of Ned Stark triggered the death of Joffrey's reign," Ned pointed out. "It also gave rise to a new King in the North, one who might have Dayne blood in his veins."

"You think Jon Snow might be your aunt's son?" Jaime asked. "Does that matter?"

"It might." Ned explained. "If Jon Snow carries the blood of House Dayne, of Dorne, and is as honorable as it is said, he might be able to stop the bloodshed."

Hope fluttered in Brienne's breast. Westeros had already endured so much pain, bloodshed and suffering. Jon would do almost anything to unite the people and focus them on the common goal of defeating the Army of the Dead. Could the Lord of Starfall deliver a way to calm the Dornish and soothe the wounds they'd suffered at the hands of House Lannister?

"How?' Brienne demanded eagerly. "How does it matter if King Jon is a son of House Dayne?"

"We will not attack a man who carries our blood and defends us," Daeron spoke up. "If it can be proven that Jon Snow carries the blood of Dorne and truly fights for _all_ of Westeros, it might be enough to stop the march."

A charge went through both groups. Dorne was powerful and eager for revenge. Unlike the rest of Westeros, they had not suffered through the War of the Five Kings, nor had they felt the pain of the Night King or the Dragon Queen. If Jon could ease tensions with Dorne, one war would be averted. Perhaps he might even be able to sway the Dornish to join the battle against the Army of the Dead.

Another man, as fair as Daeron but bigger and heavily muscled, spoke up. "We won't spill the blood of Dornishmen, not against a king who rides into battle to defend us. The White Wolf has brought together warring tribes before. If this threat is as great as Lord Beric says, as you say, then we must stand together."

"But how can a man prove his bloodline?' Tyrion asked. He looked sideways at Griff. "Merely saying he is from a noble line isn't proof. How is King Jon to support such a claim?"

"House Dayne is among the oldest and most noble houses in Westeros," Edric explained. "Our descendants go back to Queen Nymeria herself. Ser Davos Dayne was husband to the queen. Our blood has been entwined with House Nymeros Martell for generations. He who has the blood of House Dayne has the blood of Dorne itself."

"I meant no disrespect, my Lord," Tyrion assured quickly. "I know the glorious history of House Dayne. I don't question the accuracy of it. I ask how to prove the blood tie."

Ned was silent again, looking at each council member in turn. As before his gaze ended on Griff. This time Griff reacted, raising his chin as if daring Ned to continue. For a moment, the two men engaged in a silent battle. Finally, Ned looked down and unbuckled his sword belt. The dragons hissed threateningly. Ned froze.

"Nykeōragon ilagon," Griff spoke for the first time.

The dragons looked at him then folded in their wings and relaxed. They even took a step back, pressing into Brienne, Podrick and Griff. Brienne stared at the five in amazement then looked at Griff.

"What did you say to them?" she asked.

"Nykeōragon ilagon," Griff repeated, his mouth curving into a faint smile as he looked at her. "It means 'stand down' in High Valyrian. I told the dragons these men are not a threat."

Daeron stared at him. "You command dragons?"

Griff's expression cooled and his smile faded as turned back to Daeron. "I am Aegon Targaryen. The blood of old Valyria runs through my veins. Yes, I command dragons."

Daeron looked from Griff to the dragons standing attentively at his side. The five alternated from watching the Dornishmen to watching Griff. Brienne's heart swelled as she watched them being as alert and disciplined as any _Golden Company_ officers. Daeron and Ned looked up from the dragons to exchange grim glances then back at their companions. The men looked amongst themselves, sharing silent communication, until the oldest man nodded. Ned nodded back and turned to face the council members.

"The king maybe able to prove his blood with this." Again, Ned reached for his sword belt.

The dragons shifted and Ned froze once more. Griff moved ahead of the dragons' defensive line, so he was standing between the young man and the dragons. Ned's eyes widened then he slowly unlaced his belt. He held the sword sheath up, holding it parallel to the floor. Gently, carefully, he pulled the sword out of the scabbard.

Jaime gasped and stumbled back, as if unable to look at the weapon. Everyone else leaned closer to see what Ned had revealed. He held up a sword that was unlike anything Brienne had ever seen before. The blade was as pale as milkglass with a black leather hilt and a golden sun shining sun rays etched into the pommel. Unlike Valyrian steel, which flashed as it reflected light, this sword glowed. Held proudly aloft for all to see, its unusual surface color seemed to become both deeper and brighter, as if absorbing the sunlight pouring in from the stained-glass windows.

"Is that…" Podrick began, his eyes huge in his face, but was unable to finish his questions. He was too busy staring at the extraordinary weapon.

"This is _Dawn_, the sword of House Dayne," Ned confirmed. "It's said that any warrior of House Dayne, be he father, son, brother or cousin, may wield this sword, if he is deemed worthy."

"Who deems if a warrior is worthy?" Bronn asked, his voice almost as awed and breathless as Podrick's.

"_Dawn_ does," Ned insisted.

Bronn tore his gaze away from _Dawn_ to stare at Ned. "The _sword_ decides?"

Ned nodded solemnly. Bronn frowned, his eyes narrowed, if unsure Ned was telling the truth or merely playing a jape on him. He looked from Ned back to _Dawn_, once again entranced by the sword. Brienne was willing to bet Bronn had never given a woman the same besotted, awestruck expression he graced upon _Dawn_.

"And you are?" Ned's brows furrowed in curiosity as he prompted Bronn.

It took Bronn a few seconds to look away from the sword. Finally, he did and swept a shallow bow. "Ser Bronn of the Blackwater, at your service."

"Ser Bronn, would you like to see for yourself?" Ned asked, holding out the sword.

Bronn nodded eagerly. He carefully took the priceless sword by the black leather-covered hilt, holding it with both hands. He hefted it and held it out to check the balance.

"This is the most amazing weapon I've ever held," he marveled. "It's solid but still light, big as a broadsword but so perfectly balanced I could hold it in one hand. It might even be worth joining the Kingsguard and giving up women, just to have this sword."

Beyond him, Jaime winced. "Bronn, that's the greatest sword in the known world. Have respect for it."

Bronn tore his gaze away from the magnificent sword. "Have you ever held it?"

"Yes, I have," Jaime nodded, his eyes dark and haunted. "Ser Arthur allowed me to hold it on several occasions. He even knighted me with _Dawn_. The blade was so sharp it cut through my armor, cloth and skin. I still bear the scars to this day." He touched his shoulder. "They are my most cherished possessions."

"Ser Bronn," Daeron called, drawing Bronn's attention. "Can you fight with this sword?"

Bronn looked to the bigger man. Daeron slowly pulled out his own sword, while watching the dragons. Griff put his hand on Catren and Allwyn's necks, pulling them close to his body. The other dragons moved forward, so the five were now standing beside Griff. They remained calm, not even tensing when Daeron revealed his weapon.

Daeron held his sword in a loose hold, not even curling his fingers fully together on the pommel. Bronn still held _Dawn_ in a careful two-handed grip. Daeron brought his sword up in an upward arch, too gentle a motion to be called a thrust. He tapped his sword against _Dawn_ and the sword flew from Bronn's hand.

"What? How did…?" Bronn's mouth dropped open. He looked from his now empty hands to _Dawn_ resting on the floor a few feet away. "I was holding it, the sword. You barely touched it."

"_Dawn_ chooses its swordsman, not the other way around," Ned explained. "Only he who _Dawn_ deems worthy may have the honor of being the next _Sword of the Morning._ That's why this sword spends generations hanging above the mantle in our great hall instead of in the hand of many fine Dayne family warriors."

Brienne knelt down to retrieve the wondrous sword, careful to only pick it up by the hilt. Bronn was right. The sword was solid but light, huge but balanced perfectly and pulsed with energy. It was so steeped in history the sword was almost _alive_. Her blood quickened just to hold it.

"It's amazing," she breathed.

"Are you Lady Ser Brienne?" Ned looked at her with frank curiosity. "The first woman to be honored with knighthood?"

"I am Brienne of Tarth." Brienne nodded and blushed. "A knight of the Seven Kingdoms. Thank you for allowing me the honor of holding such an extraordinary weapon."

"It's said that you are an extraordinary weapon, too," Ned remarked, his beautiful purple eyes dark and solemn. "Perhaps this moment was fated. The swords of the Gods now holds the sword of the stars."

Brienne stared at Ned solemn expression, her eyes widening in shock. He was serious. The Lord of Starfall considered it an honor for her to hold his family's precious, irreplaceable sword. A weapon so tied to House Dayne that Ned Stark had traveled all the way to Starfall to return it to their mantle.

She held _Dawn_ out for Jaime to admire. He looked at it, his eyes darkening even more, aching sadness pulling down his face. He reached out to touch the pommel but stopped suddenly, his breath drawn in on a harsh inhale. Brienne followed his gaze to see him stare at his outstretched golden hand. The appendage, cold, rigid and unable to transmit sensation, incapable of passing along the wondrous pleasure of just touching such a marvelous piece, hovered just above _Dawn's_ hilt. Jaime jerked his hand and hid it behind his back, stepping away.

"No," he said quietly. "This is Ser Arthur's sword. He was the most noble and chivalrous knight in the Seven Kingdoms. He never broke his vows, not any of them. I won't besmirch the weapon of such an honorable man."

"There is honor in you, too, Ser Jaime," Brienne insisted quietly. "But no one will see it until you do and show it to them."

Still, Jaime shook his head. Brienne looked at him sadly then took _Dawn_ to Tyrion, Sandor and Podrick. They all took turns admiring the sword but didn't attempt to touch it.

"If Jon Snow can wield this sword, it will prove he's my cousin and carries the blood of House Dayne," Ned explained. "Dornishmen will listen to a king who honors the blood of Dorne."

Brienne, who had been in the process of showing _Dawn_ to Griff, froze. She met her king's gaze. His eyes, which had been cool and calm, now burned as if lit from within. Then she knew. _This_ was his plan. Ned Dayne thought he'd come to King's Landing to prove Jon Snow had the blood of House Danye, of Dorne. But that wasn't the real reason. Griff had manipulated the Dornishmen into coming to prove _his_ claim.

Griff, if he really was Aegon the Sixth Targaryen, would also carry the blood of House Danye and with it, Dorne. Elia Martell was the daughter the last Princess of Dorne. Dornish law allowed women to inherit, thus making her children eligible for the throne. Prince Doran and his family were dead, Prince Oberyn had no legitimate children before his death. That meant Princess Elia's son was next in line to rule Dorne.

Griff held her gaze as he carefully, deliberately took _Dawn_, the sword of House Dayne, from her hand. Behind her, she heard Ned hiss in annoyance.

"Return my sword, pretender," Ned ordered.

_Pretender_. If Ned was calling Griff a 'pretender', then Griff had made his claim to be Aegon, the son of Princess Elia. It was the secret Griff kept, had told no one but his men on the _Sea Keeper_ and a handful of _Golden Company_ officers. Griff had not come to her directly from Tyrosh, he'd gone to Dorne first. These men were here to prove Griff's bloodline, not Jon's.

Griff stepped forward, walking closer to the Dornishmen, out of the dragons' fire range. _Dawn_ was clasped firmly in his sword hand. "I am no pretender. I'm Aegon _Martell_ Targaryen. I carry both the blood of dragons and of Dorne."

Suddenly Daeron swept forward, his sword still in his hand. Unlike the gentle tap he'd delivered when Bronn was holding _Dawn_, he used his full body strength to break Griff's grip on _Dawn_. The sword flew from his hand.

_Daeron's _sword flew from his hand.

_Dawn_ didn't waiver.

Daeron's mouth fell open as he looked from the sword to Griff then back again. Griff also looked from _Dawn_ to Daeron. Unlike Daeron's amazed shock, a slow, satisfied smile lit Griff's face. Daeron flushed deeply red and turned back at his men.

"Take him!" the Lord of House Vaith ordered as he dove for his sword. "Take him!"

The dragons squawked and puffed; their wings outspread. Brienne and Podrick immediately fell to their knees to restrain them. She grabbed Catren and Allwyn, the most excitable of the five. Podrick hugged Gallan and Serdun leaving only Ardayn unaccompanied. The dragon, named after the last _Sword of the Morning_, growled and stepped forward, it's reptilian eyes cold and lethal as it tried to go around Brienne to Griff's aid.

"No!" Brienne cried. "Ardayn, māzigon naejot issa!"

"Zaldrīzoti, nykeōragon ilagon!" Griff called, even as the Dornishmen surrounded him.

Surprisingly, the dragons obeyed, even as the noise of clashing swords filled the air. Brienne turned back to watch the men and gasped. They all, except the oldest man, had taken out their swords to engage Griff. Their combined efforts were forcing Griff to backstep down the room, towards the remains of the Iron Throne. Still, _Dawn_ stayed firm in Griff's hand. She'd seen Griff sword fight before, knew his style, had admired his grace and speed and had marveled at how _Firestorm_ was an extension of his body when he fought.

This was something _entirely_ different. Now Griff was an extension of _Dawn_. The sword knew where to go and used Griff to take it there. The Dornishmen tried to surround them but _Dawn's_ perfect accuracy, combined with Griff's graceful water dance style, refused to allow them to be trapped. Brienne and Podrick now leaned over the dragons, covering them with their bodies to shield them, as swords flew out of the fighters' hands and around the room. Jaime thrust Tyrion behind him as he, Bronn and Sandor defected and dodged flying swords, further protecting the dragons.

Almost effortlessly Griff, no, not Griff, but _Dawn,_ _Dawn_ disarmed the Dornishmen. Moments later, only Griff was still armed. They'd forced him up the dais so his back was to the molten metal heap of the Iron Throne. The symbolism nearly burned Brienne's eyes. Griff was breathing heavily, his body shuddering with every breath, breathless but triumphant. He leaned against the remains of the throne his ancestor, King Aegon the First, had built. His eyes were wide with wonder as he stared at the sword his ancestor, Ser Davos Dayne, a former _Sword of the Morning_, had once claimed. Griff looked from _Dawn_ to Ned, standing further back in the hall.

"What say you now," Griff panted for breath, "_cousin_?"

Ned stared back at him, also gasping for breath, his eyes wide and jaw stiff. He looked around at the other Dornishmen as they collected their weapons, then back to the sword held firm in Griff's hand.

"_Dawn_ has chosen," the tall, muscular, unnamed blond man claimed. "Princess Elia's son holds true. Our Prince has returned to us."

The man knelt down to pick up his own, efficient but ordinary, blade. He looked around as the other fighters gathered up their sword, careful to stay away from the now-calm but still watchful dragons. The man laid his sword before him and looked up at Griff.

"Aegon Martell Targaryen," he spoke in a loud ringing tone that echoed in the enormous Throne Room, "I, Anders Yronwood of House Yronwood, do hereby pledge my life and my house to your service."

Brienne gasped softly. The lord of the second most powerful house in Dorne had just accepted Griff as their ruler. Griff's smile returned as he looked from Anders to Daeron. The Lord of Vaith also knelt and pledged his loyalty and his house. One by one, the men knelt, pledging the great house of Dorne to Griff except…

Griff looked at the Lord of Starfall. The dragons, sensing Griff's triumph, shrieked, their cries echoing and amplifying in the silence. Ned looked at the dragons then back at Griff. Finally, his expression softened to acceptance.

"So be it. Behold, the new _Sword of the Morning._" Ned knelt and placed his sword on the ground before him. "Aegon Martell Targaryen, son of the sun and of the dragons, I, Ned Dayne of House Dayne, do hereby pledge my life and my house to your service."

Only the oldest man was left standing. He hadn't joined the fighting, choosing to stand to the side to watch the battle. Now Griff stared at him, his chin raised. The man looked at Griff for a long moment, his jaw locked. The dragons continue to shriek. Catren and Allwyn left Brienne to fly to Griff, landing on the steps below him.

The oldest man looked from Griff to _Dawn_ and then to Catren and Allwyn. Finally, he removed his own sword. The man paused, closed his eyes as if gathering himself, then opened them as he knelt. He laid his sword before him.

"Aegon Martell Targaryen, son of Dorne and dragons, I, Manfrey Martell of House Nymeros Martell, do hereby pledge my life and my house, your mother's house, to your service." Manfrey bowed his head momentarily then he looked up, his dark eyes clear and determined. "We are with you, your Grace. Dorne is yours to command."

Griff's smile widened. He turned to Brienne and bowed, his left hand behind his back, _Dawn_ pointed to the floor. She remembered the last time he'd done that, bowed to her over his sword. They had been on a dirty dock in Braavos, preparing to face each other for the first time. Even now, as back then, she thought he was as graceful as a lady, as courtly as a prince.

Prince Aegon Martell Targaryen, the trueborn son of the sun, the heir to Princess Elia Martell, the last remaining direct descendant of the Princess of Dorne and now…

The new Prince of Dorne.

**Author's Note:** So, the new Prince of Dorne is also the new _Sword of the Morning_. Griff is focused on taking Westeros but he's also taken an important step towards facing the Night King. What prophecy now comes into play to guide our heroes in the battle against the Army of the Dead?


	35. Silver Keeper

The Keeper

Chapter 35: Silver Keeper

Griff held Brienne's gaze for a long moment, _Dawn_ held steady in his hand. Gallan rose into the air, its wings flapping furiously, creating a gust that tossed Brienne's hair into her eyes. The action broke her out of the shock that had held her still. She gasped softly and looked around. Jaime, Bronn and Podrick were blank-faced, still absorbing the rapidly evolving events. Even Sandor, who normally scowled through every exchange, stared at Griff, eyes squinting, as if he couldn't bring the scene into focus. Tyrion blinked rapidly, his gaze fliting from Griff to the various lords as he worked through the ramifications of the most current changes.

The new ruler of Dorne looked down at the men knelt before him, their lives and houses now his to command, and nodded. A faint smile of satisfaction curled his lips as he pushed away from the remains of the Iron Throne.

"Arise, my Lords," he commanded. "Rejoice. A new era has begun."

The lords gathered up their swords and rose. Most, except the young Lord Dayne, were older, harder men, used to fighting for what they wanted. Yet they had willingly submitted themselves to their new Prince. The Targaryens hadn't conquered Dorne, at least, not for long. The Dornish had chosen to join Westeros on their own terms, keeping their Rhoynish customs and laws. The southernmost region was strong and independent, untouched by the wars that had weakened so much of the rest of Westeros and its armies.

While war hadn't weakened Dorne, pain and suffering had. The death of the previous _Sword of the Morning _had taken the son and a daughter from House Dayne. House Nymeros Martell had been crippled and bloodied, all three of the last Princess of Dorne's children killed by House Lannister or its agents. Dorne had stood apart from the rest of Westeros, until now. As the last legitimate heir of the Princess's direct bloodline, Aegon Martell Targaryen was the first King of the Seven Kingdoms to also be the Prince of Dorne. The first Dornish blood king, he truly held dominion over _all_ of Westeros.

He was also the first Targaryen king in over three hundred years to command dragons. A fact that hadn't escaped anyone's notice, especially the dragons. Catren and Allwyn were on the step below him but Gallan, Ardayn and Serdun were still with her. Given Gallan's anxious hovering and Ardayn and Serdun's rigid, strained necks, it was clear they also wanted to be with the new Prince of Dorne. Brienne jerked as she realized _she_ should also be at her king's side.

Gallan swept across the room as Brienne, Podrick, Ardayn and Serdun followed at a calmer pace. The blue dragon landed with controlled precision, at exactly the proper distance left of Catren to allow both to extend their wings without brushing against each other. Gallan folded in its wings and stood very straight, facing the lords of Dorne, calm and majestic under Griff's approving gaze.

"Sȳrī gaomagon, Gallan," Griff praised, resting his hand briefly on the dragon's head.

Brienne stopped at the foot of the stairs, to Griff's left, beside Gallan. Podrick stood beside her, while Serdun and Ardayn landed on the steps at either end. Like Gallan, they landed perfectly and stood tall and straight, as practiced and skilled as any _Golden Company_ officers.

"Sȳrī gaomagon, Serdun, Ardayn," Griff praised, then looked past the row of dragons to smile at Brienne.

Like the dragons, Brienne and Podrick also stood tall and straight, just as an office of the _Golden Company_ and her squire should. Still, Brienne didn't miss the way the Dornish lords looked at her then at Griff, calculation apparent in their narrowed eyes. All except Lord Dayne, who stared at Ardayn.

"Ardayn," Ned repeated. "So, it's true? You named the dragon in my uncle's memory?"

Brienne looked away from the suspicious Dornishmen to the Lord of Starfall. Ned's gaze went from the silver-grey dragon to Brienne's dress, a near exact match to Ardayn's coloring. Ardayn, already standing proudly, spread its wings to display the white markings, almost a match for _Dawn's_ milky-white surface.

Brienne nodded. "Yes, my Lord. Ser Arthur Dayne was one of the noblest knights in Westerosi history. It's said that only Ser Duncan the Tall could be his equal."

"No, my Lady Ser, my uncle had no equal." Ned's bright purple eyes dimmed. "He was the last _Sword of the Morning_, an honor so rare, I only know of three men in our lineage to be bestowed it."

"Yet Prince Aegon has been so honored." Manfrey looked hard a Griff. "Not only that, but he was sure he would claim _Dawn_. As Lord Dayne says, only a handful of men have been bestowed the honor in the entire history of House Dayne. What gave you such surety, your Grace?"

The castellan's tone was polite enough but his dark eyes were hard. There was no denying _Dawn_ had chosen Griff but Manfrey was right to question it. How had Griff known _Dawn_ would accept him and honor the world with another _Sword of the Morning_? Was it because the Gods needed such a skilled fighter, armed with such an unmatched weapon, for the Great War?

If Griff was annoyed by the blunt question, he didn't show it. "I knew I'd claim _Dawn_ because I trust Brienne," he said, shifting his smile to her.

"What does Lady Ser Brienne have to do with it?" Ned demanded, his voice noticeably rising. "She is not of House Dayne and has no influence on our decisions."

Griff's eyes tightened slightly as he looked to his cousin. Only Brienne, standing so close to her king, noticed it. The smile remained on his face but cooled as he looked to Ned.

"No, she is not but I trust her counsel." There was a subtle warning in his tone. "She told me a great and terrible threat was rising in the North. I believed her and began to study what was written about the last Long Night. History repeats. Human nature doesn't change, but it does adjust to changing circumstances. Just as the moon goes through phases, so does human history. Understanding the past gives us clues to understanding the future."

"Did you learn something new, your Grace?" Brienne demanded eagerly. "Do you know how to end the Long Night?"

"No," Griff admitted. "There was very little true information. We know the previous Long Night did end and the Night's Watch was created to guard the realms of men. Therefore, there is a way to defeat the Army of the Dead. The details were not in any of the scrolls I studied but we still have other avenues of research. It was while I was in Volantis that I learned of the prophecy that foretold the prince who was promised would become the new _Sword of the Morning_."

Tyrion frowned. "I hadn't heard such a prophecy."

"No?" Griff glanced at the Hand. "It was repeated frequently in the scrolls and spoken on the streets of Volantis. Even King Jaehaerys believed the prince who was promised would be born from the line of Aerys and Rhaella. I am the son of their son, the descendant of their bloodline."

"Queen Daenerys is also of their bloodline," Tyrion pointed out. "In fact, as their daughter, she's their immediate descendant. High Valyrian is genderless. The prophecies could just as easily mean the _princess_ who was promised."

"But Daenerys doesn't refer to herself as princess, does she?" Griff countered. "She calls herself queen because she considers that a more powerful title. There's just one place in Westeros where being a prince or princess surpasses being a king or queen. I, Aegon _Martell_ Targaryen, have the bloodline to be the Prince of Dorne."

Tyrion opened his mouth but no words emerged. Griff's argument was logical. The Dornish, who had never been conquered by the Targaryens, had kept their customs. They knew no king or queen, only a ruling prince or princess. The prophecies all stated a prince or princess, not to a king or queen, would save Westeros. Only Dorne allowed a prince or princess to rule thus only Dorne could produce the prophesied savior.

"Nor could Daenerys fulfill the other part of the prophecy," Griff held up _Dawn_, the milky-white sword glowing brightly as it continued to absorb sunlight. "Only a warrior of House Dayne can become the new _Sword of the Morning_. I'm heir to both the Queen of Westeros and the Princess of Dorne. Brienne believes the Gods guide her through prophecy. If Brienne trusts the prophecies and I trust Brienne, then it follows that I believed the prophecy that I would become the new _Sword of the Morning_."

"Forgive me, your Grace," Podrick said quietly. "I've tried to note all the prophecies we've been given. I've not heard of one that says the prince who was promised would become the new _Sword of the Morning_."

Podrick looked around, as if to ask the other if they knew of this prophecy. Tyrion shook his head while Jaime and Bronn exchanges tense glances. Sandor wore his usual scowl while the Dornish lords looked blankly at each other. Podrick turned back to Griff, his brow furrowed.

"Yes, you have heard it, Podrick," Griff assured. "You simply didn't understand it. The prophecy says 'The prince who was promised will bring the _Dawn_.' I am the _Prince_ of Dorne and now I carry _Dawn_. I will bring it into battle to defend all of Westeros."

_The prince who was promised will bring the _Dawn_._

A shiver ran down Brienne's spine, similar to the charge she'd felt the first time she'd touched Lord Beric Dondarrion's sword. Griff was right. They had heard the prophecy before but they'd misunderstood its interpretation. Daenerys thought it meant she was to end the Long Night, lead the world to a new day dawning. No one had considered that _dawn_ had a different meaning. Just as Daenerys had thought Mirri Maz Duur's curse referred to a 'sun' in the sky instead of a 'son' in her arms, they'd thought 'dawn' mean daybreak. Instead, the Gods were trying to lead them to the legendary sword of House Dayne.

There was a moment of shocked silence as everyone absorbed the new information. Griff carefully laid the precious sword against the base of the Iron Throne. The sword glowed even whiter against the blackened remains of the throne of Targaryen kings. The sharp, clean lines and purity of the sword contrasted with the corruption of the burnt and twisted metal. Some of the crushing pressure eased from Brienne's soul as the wondrous sword pulled at something deep inside her.

Standing at the foot of the steps in front of Griff, she saw the change in the men's expressions. She watched as comprehension settled over their features, including those of the Dornish lords. Tyrion, Jaime and Bronn froze, their eyes widening. Even Sandor's face was wiped clean of his usual scowl. They finally understood. The Gods _were_ guiding them, once they opened their minds to the multilayered nature of prophecy. The Prince of Dorne was the new _Sword of the Morning_, fulfilling a long-told promise, identifying another warrior and the weapon he would carry into battle against the Night King.

Now the Dornish lords comprehended what they were facing. If the prophecy was true, then the Night King was also truth. The threat was real. No longer could they focus on their war for land, vengeance and dominance. The enemy they faced would strike them all down, if it was allowed to. The armies of men must gather together. The Gods were positioning them for the upcoming battle. They were now one step closer to the war against the Army of the Dead.

"War is coming," Ned said quietly, his voice almost quivering. "We face an enemy that can raise the dead, thus has an inexhaustible army. The only thing that protects us is the Wall enchanted by the Old Gods."

"And water," Sandor added. "The dead who fell through the ice into the water, didn't rise while we were there."

"But they can rise, can't they?" Manfrey demanded. "That's why Jon Snow gathers armies to man the Night's Watch castles along the Wall. They expect the lost dragon to rise again. If the dragon can rise, why can't the dead?"

"Only things that hold air can rise," Griff explained. "Throw a stone into the water and it will stay down. Tear a hole in a ship and it will not sink until the water forces the air out of the cavities. The dragon will rise but the bones will not."

"So, what can we do?" Anders asked. "How do we fight an enemy who cannot be defeated?"

"The armies of men defeated it before," Griff reminded him. "Five thousand years ago, there was another Long Night."

"Five thousand years ago, we had magic and those who could use it," Manfrey pointed out. "Now, we cannot even find records of those battles."

"Magic is returning," Griff argued. "The dragons are proof of that. There will be records. We simply haven't found them yet."

"Your Grace, the search for information has already begun," Brienne interjected. "Jon Snow was Lord Commander of the Night's Watch before he became the King in the North. He sent a learned man, Samwell Tarly, a former steward who served under your Grand-Uncle Aemon, to Oldtown. We hope Samwell will find useful records there."

"Good," Griff nodded. "Jon Snow and the Night's Watch have fought these creatures before. He learns from every encounter. His army destroyed thousands north of the Wall. There is no better man to lead the watchers on the Wall."

"But Jon Snow isn't a good battle commander," Manfrey countered. "I heard about the battle for Winterfell. He met his enemy on open ground, was goaded into breaking from his troops and would have lost the battle if not for the Knights of the Vale."

"Knights who are no longer in Winterfell," Anders added. "Simply marching into battle against an army of bones won't work, with or without the Knights of the Vale. Even powerful fighters such as the Dothraki and the Unsullied are useless battling head to head against an inexhaustible army that cannot be destroyed."

"Lord Yornwood, the enemy can be destroyed." Tyrion, having recovered from his shock, came to join them. "We've already discovered that fire, dragonglass and Valyrian steel can destroy these creatures."

Anders looked past Griff to the mangled remains of the Iron Throne. "Where are these weapons now?"

"The Valyrian steel weapons are being cleaned and their pommels repaired, the dragonglass is being fashioned into swords, arrowheads and daggers while the fire…" Tyrion paused to look at the young dragons, "is with us."

"Lord Hand, I notice you have no fear of the dragons." Ned looked from Tyrion to Serdun, close enough for the Hand to touch, then back again. "Nor do the dragons have anger towards you. How is it that you, a Lannister, can walk among them?"

Tyrion's smile towards the dragons was almost affectionate. "Dragons are very intelligent, my Lord. Some say they are even more intelligent than men. Dragons understand emotions and sense intent. That allows them to judge men and their characters better than we can. They won't harm me because they know I have no ill intentions towards them or their mother."

"Mother?" Manfrey repeated. "The dragons respond to Prince Aegon. They are his dragons."

"Brienne and I share the dragons, Ser Manfrey," Griff explained. "She is their mother and I am their father."

"What?' Jaime jerked visibly. "You can't be their father. The big dragon, Drogon, is their _real_ father."

Brienne gasped at the sudden, aching pain blooming in her heart. Almost as soon as he spoke the words, Jaime's eyes widened. He seemed to realize how much his statement would wound both the man who had nurtured and protected the young dragons and the woman who'd left them in his care. Not only had Griff sheltered the five from only three days after their birth, he had done it without Brienne for nearly half of the dragons' lives.

Griff came down so he was on the step above Brienne. He leaned so close to her that she could feel his heat against her back. Again, the Dornish lords looked from Griff to her then back to their new prince, their bodies rigid as they waited for his response. Tyrion drew in his breath sharply, staring at his brother in horror. Podrick instinctively leaned away, trying to avoid the oncoming confrontation.

Griff's eyes cooled to glacial calm. "Real is based upon who an offspring loves and who guards and guides that offspring in return. You should understand, Kingslayer. Merely giving your seed didn't make you a father. Cersei's children didn't love or respect you, did they?"

"_I'd gone to Dorne to bring Myrcella back after we received a threat on her life. She died on the voyage back to King's Landing. She died in my arms," Jaime's voice broke, "just after she told me she was glad I was her father."_

At least one of Jaime's children had known he was her father and rejoiced in it. Jaime had been given a single moment of happiness with Myrcella before her death. Griff's comments were cruel in the face of Jaime's losses. Tyrion hurried to his brother's side while Bronn, normally cool and cynical, looked at him with concern. Jaime seemed unable to respond, his eyes dark and devastated, his skin so pale it made his bruises stand out in contrast.

Brienne's heart wrenched as she watched Jaime's pained reaction. He swayed on his feet, as if Griff's barb was a physical blow that had injured him. Tyrion looked at his brother with concern while Bronn subtly shifted closer to the devastated former Kingsguard. Still, she understood how Jaime's careless declaration had hurt and angered the new Prince of Dorne. Even she was pained by it. No one, not even she, could have protected and trained the dragons as well as Griff had.

Griff stepped down beside her so he was on level with the five. The dragons shifted closer, while Catren and Allwyn laid their heads against his legs. The dragons made it clear their love and loyalty was with their chosen father. Griff had made significant sacrifices to protect and guide the dragons, keeping them safe, hidden and disciplined. He'd put aside his own plans to take the Seven Kingdoms to nurture the five. He'd even guarded them while she'd returned to Westeros to fulfill her vow to Lady Catelyn.

Griff knew the five he raised would soon rule the world. Protecting and guiding them was crucial to shaping the boundaries they would one day redefine. Yes, Jaime's sons had become kings, but their power had been brittle and easily taken. Would they have become different men had Jaime had played a more active role in their upbringing? Possibly, but Jaime, already damaged by the cruelty of serving the Mad King and the injustice of his Kingslayer reputation, had barely been able to hold himself together. He hadn't had the desire or seen the need to try to mold Joffery or Tommen into different men. Time and circumstances had worked against him and his sons. Then time had run out, leaving Jaime and Tyrion as the last of their once-noble house.

"Drogon _chose_ me to father these five," Griff continued ruthlessly. "The dragon came to observe me in Essos. It knew I'd be an excellent father who would protect the dragons and teach them to be disciplined and honorable. I won't allow them to abuse their power or corrupt their destinies. Did you take such important points into consideration when you chose to foist your bastards on Robert Baratheon?"

Jaime shuddered visibly. He'd had controlled very little of his own life, choosing to respond to the people and events around him. Tywin, Aerys and Cersei had seen the man they'd wanted to see, the heir, the pawn and the lover, and had tried to force him into those roles. They'd been successful, to a point. But once away from their poisonous influences, Jaime had started to define his own future. Now he was lost, without the touchstones of his past, without a future to go towards. Only her unshakeable belief that the Gods had a plan for him kept him moving forward. Jaime knew he'd made terrible choices and was suffering the results of them. Brienne couldn't bear to see his pain, knowing how deeply he regretted the mistakes of his past.

"These dragons are highly intelligent and have only killed once," she spoke, desperate to take the focus away from Jaime. "The Ironborn King, Euron Greyjoy, attacked Daenerys and threatened me. Gallan killed him to defend us. They have never used their power to harm an innocent."

"In fact, these dragons are so intelligent, they've saved lives," Podrick added eagerly.

Her squire told of how the dragons had understood the orphaned babies needed care, had broken their protective line to accept the babes and how Allwyn had coaxed little girl, who Brienne had named Ela, out of her fear.

"Ela. Why did you name the child Ela?" Manfrey demanded harshly. He stared at Brienne, color flushing into his face.

Brienne frowned at the throbbing emotion coming from the castellan of Sunspear. The dragons, picking up on his antagonism, growled warningly. Ardayn, Serdun and Gallan broke from their formation to fly to Brienne, landing in front of her. Catren and Allwyn no longer pressed against Griff, spreading their wings as they moved in front of him, hissing in warning. Manfrey stepped back quickly, as did all the other Dornish men.

"I…I meant no offense," the castellan assured. "I was shocked to hear the name again, after so many years."

"I meant no harm in it, my Lord," Brienne assured, kneeling down to restrain Ardayn and Serdun. "I'd actually named the child Jorrāelagon, or 'love' in High Valyrian. But it's such a long name for a small child, I decided to call her Ela until she grew into it."

She saw Podrick soothe Gallan while Griff wrapped his arms around Catren and Allwyn. The dragons, sensing Manfrey's easing tension, relaxed. The Dornishmen also relaxed in reaction but kept a safe distance from the dragons. Brienne kept her arms around her most ardent guards.

"Why does the name cause you to react as such, Ser Manfrey?" Griff demanded, still keeping a firm hold on Catren and Allwyn.

For just an instant, Manfrey's face crumpled. It was so quick they wouldn't have seen it if they weren't watching him closely. The castellan rallied quickly and the grief was gone almost as fast as it appeared.

"As a babe, your mother couldn't pronounce her own name," Manfrey explained softly. "Ela was her childhood name as well. Her death, and the rest of our family's, are wounds that fester to this day. The Lannisters tried to destroy our house."

Brienne stared at the castellan, heat washing over her in waves. She had unintentionally named the sweet little girl from the streets of King's Landing after Griff's mother. She knew the Gods had a plan and were moving people into position to defend the realm of men. They were leading her to the people and the tools that would help the army of men battle the Night King. What role did Jorrāelagon play in the Gods' plans?

Griff looked from Manfrey to Jaime and Tyrion, quiet rage simmering in his purple eyes. His focus was on his mother's death, not on Ela's life. Tywin Lannister's ambitions had almost destroyed House Nymeros Martell. Griff stared hard at the sons of the man who'd ordered Elia and Rhaenys's deaths. Jaime was the Kingsguard who had ignored his prince's order to protect his family. Jaime and Tyrion were the brothers of the woman whose manipulations had led to Oberyn, Doran and Trystane's death. Jaime and Tyrion looked at each other. Jaime shifted so Tyrion was half-hidden behind him but kept his face expressionless. He was ready for whatever the Dornish wanted to do to him.

Brienne tightened her hold on Ardayn and Serdun as the tension rose again. The Dornishmen backed even further away from the dragons. Sandor also began to shuffle away whole Bronn stiffened, his eyes wide.

"Your Grace…" Brienne began.

Griff looked at her, the fire in his eyes icing over so suddenly it sent a chill down her spine. He took a deep breath, released Catren and Allwyn, and rose to his feet.

"Their deaths are never far from my mind, Ser Manfrey," Griff assured him. "That's why we've agreed to give Gregor Clegane to Dorne. He was their executioner. Dorne will also have Cersei Lannister, mother of bastard kings and daughter of the demon lord."

"What about these two," Anders, safely out of the dragons' range, called. He gestured to Jaime and Tyrion. "They're Lannister, also part of the treachery that lead to the deaths of the ruling Prince and his family. Why do they stand among us? Their heads should be mounted on the walls around King's Landing."

Griff looked at Brienne, his eyes now back to their normal color, the harsh emotions held tightly under his control. "It will serve no purpose to kill men who can aid us in the Great War. Brienne has assured me they have important roles to play in all of our survival."

"What important roles?" Manfrey demanded. "A former Kingsguard who has betrayed every one of his vows and an imp short enough for me to piss over?"

"Ser Manfrey, I understand you are angry but allowing more people to die will not appease your anger," Brienne pointed out gently. "Nor will it help us to win the Great War."

Tyrion took a deep breath and stepped out from behind Jaime. He met Brienne's gaze briefly before releasing the air in his lungs. He touched the Hand of the Queen pin fastened to his jacket and straightened his shoulders. He came to stand near Griff and turned to face the Dornish lords. Brienne had to admire the raw courage it took for the dwarf to face a room full of tall, powerful, angry men. Tyrion knew he had a role to play, a duty to perform and a kingdom to save.

"The enemy we face will not differentiate between Lannister or Martell, Ser Manfrey," Tyrion said quietly. "Not between Northman or Dornishman, not between men of honor and men of shame, not even between tall, strong men or short, intelligent men. We cannot allow what divides us to be greater than what binds us. If we war amongst ourselves, we won't need the Army of the Dead to kill us. But if we stand together, we can save ourselves and the future of all of Westeros."

Anders glared at Tyrion. "You speak with a silver tongue, imp. Do you propose to talk this Night King into surrender?"

"No, the Night King will not surrender," Tyrion admitted. "But I will talk to intelligent men and remind them of their duties. You each lead a great house, houses that must have responsible leaders to remain standing. How will you justify the destruction of those you care for, if the reason for our defeat is your unwillingness to put their needs above your anger? Will you allow all of Dorne to perish just to punish us?"

The Hand's tongue was silver but his words were the brutal truth. Stand together to fight or stand apart to die. War was coming. The Night King and his Army of the Dead could break free of the Wall's enchantments any day. Then, if aided by an undead dragon, he could unleash a reign of terror that would destroy the entire world. Time could not be stopped, turned back or recovered. Time would not long be on their side.

Behind Tyrion, the magical sword _Dawn_ glowed and pulsed, almost as if absorbing his words, soaking in his energy. It was a beacon in the encroaching darkness, drawing in the attention and essence of everyone in the room. Almost as one, they all looked at it, mesmerized by its purity and beauty. Surely the world could not come to such an ugly end if such beauty existed in it. Brienne stared at the sword and she _knew_.

The prince who was promised will bring the _Dawn_.

Then _Dawn_ would bring the sun.


	36. Sand Keeper

The Keeper

Chapter 36: Sand Keeper

Brienne led Allwyn and Gallan into the maester's chambers. She opened the door and the dragons dove into the room. They hoovered just inside the doorway, close enough to guard her but also high enough to look around. Immediately, the master and his assistants, until then busy in their work, froze. Their eyes widened as they looked from her to the dragons then back to her. A hush descended on the room as all heads turned to face her.

"Good afternoon," she greeted.

"Welcome, my Lady Ser. It's good to see you again." Ser Balon, standing near the windows, nodded to her.

The maester, his assistants and the wet nurses nodded back, too frightened to speak. Both women had babies to their breasts and looked at her with wide, fearful eyes. Moqorro, who had been at the far end of the room, near where the babies lay, walked closer to her. Still, he maintained a safe distance from the dragons. The Red Priest gave her his usual sad smile.

"Greetings, my Lady Ser," he said in his polite, grave tone.

Allwyn and Gallan looked around the room. They flapped their wings and began to squawk, sniffing the air as they took flight. The poor women shrank back, fear clear in their eyes. Brienne didn't know much about nursing babies but she knew fear made the body freeze up. The dragons, in their eagerness to find their playmates, were disrupting the care of those same patients.

"Allwyn, Gallan, māzigon naejot issa," Brienne called. She smiled at the women. "I apologize for their behavior. They're very excited to see the children."

The women stared at her, confusion warring with their fear, as if she spoke a language they didn't understand. The dragons sniffed again before reluctantly returning to her side. She knew what, or rather, who they were looking for. Even though they came to her, they still looked around, whining low in their throats.

"Where's Ela?" she asked, looking from Moqorro to Balon.

"She's sleeping, my Lady Ser," Balon answered.

Brienne looked out the window behind his shoulder. Much of the day had already passed. The sun was high in the sky. She'd awoken late then spent the rest of the morning with the Dornish lords. The constant threat of _Dragonbinder_ and the Night King had broken up their gathering. Podrick, Bronn and Sandor had gone back to their search for the horn. Jamie had left to meet the newest army arrivals. Tyrion had suggested Griff and the Dornish lords join him.

Griff had urged Brienne to return to the babies. Seeing there was no need for her to view the troops, Brienne had opted to visit the children and check on their progress. Several of the babies were resting on the cots, along with the two held by the wet nurses. But Ela wasn't here. Was it normal for a child to sleep so much?

"Is she well?" Brienne asked. "Is she sleeping properly?"

"Very well, my Lady Ser," Moqorro assured her. "She slept deeply last night and ate nearly half a plum this morning."

The dragons whined again, looking around but staying at Brienne's side. The maester and his assistants looked at each other, fear clear in their eyes. The wet nurses shrank in their seats but had nowhere to go with the hungry babes in their arms.

Brienne looked around at the caregivers. She knew people feared the dragons but this was a different fear. Normally people would back away from the five or watch them with a frightened fascination, unable to look away from the most powerful creatures in King's Landing. These men and nurses looked at _her_ with fear, as if they were more afraid of her than the dragons. She looked into Moqorro's eyes, at the sadness that was deeper than she remembered, and cold dread touched her heart.

"Where is she now?" Brienne demanded. "Where's Ela?"

As if on cue, a thin cry rose from behind the partial shut door at the far end of the room. Allwyn and Gallan cried out in response, flapping their wings again. Moqorro moved slowly toward the door, while still keeping the dragons in his sight. Brienne knelt to put her arms around the two, holding them close, as the priest knocked on the door.

"Enter," a tired but melodious female voice responded.

The priest slipped into the room and returned a moment later with Ela in his arms. The babe looked sleepy and disgruntled but also brighter and less anxious. Tears ran down her thin cheeks but her eyes brightened when she saw the dragons. Her shriek of delight was matched by Allwyn and Gallan, who strained forward to greet her.

Moqorro stopped, looking from Brienne to the dragons. Then the priest took a deep, visible breath and walked slowly, carefully closer to the dragons. Ela, who didn't share most people's fear of the dragons, twisted in his arms, reaching out for her friends. The Red Priest's face shone with sweat as he carefully placed the baby on the floor, just out of the dragon's reach. He backed away just as slowly, apparently trying not to alarm the most dangerous beings in the known world.

Once Moqorro backed away, Brienne released Allwyn and Gallan. The dragons immediately went to Ela and crouched close, sniffing and touching the babe, assuring themselves she was indeed well. The baby shrieked again and grabbed at their necks, using them as leverage to rise to her feet. Brienne put her arms out and Ela, helped by her hold on the dragons, determinedly made her way closer. Finally, she was close enough for Brienne to embrace. The babe did feel a bit more solid, the skeletal arms around her neck just the tiniest bit stronger and her deep brown eyes now clearer and brighter.

After embracing her one more time, Brienne gave Ela back to her playmates, both of whom were ready to help balance the child. Brienne rose and looked around again. Other that Moqorro, no one else had moved, not even Balon. Something was terribly off here.

"Ser Balon, have you been here the entire time?" Brienne asked.

The knight shook his head stiffly. "No, my Lady Ser. Lord Tyrion brought guards to relieve me when he last came to see the babes. And last night, the king and your squire also came to visit."

Brienne blinked in surprise. "They did? I didn't know that."

Balan nodded to Allwyn and Gallan. "Yes, they brought these two and the brown dragon with them. I inquired after your health. King Aegon said you were resting."

A shiver of unease slid down Brienne's spine. Griff and Podrick had come here last night but neither had mentioned it. Podrick had been busy all morning finding the sword _Lightning_ but Griff had been with her. _She_ had told him about Ela this morning and he hadn't said he'd already been to the maester's chamber. Why would he keep that information from her? Again, she looked at the tense faces surrounding her.

"What's wrong?" she asked Balon.

Color flushed into the knight's face. "We lost two babes during the night," he admitted.

"What?" She turned to stare at Moqorro. "Why? How did it happen?"

Moqorro smiled his sad smile. "It is the nature of life, my Lady Ser. We each, when our Lord wills is, must die. Each life must end for, without death, life holds no meaning. Only death pays for life."

"The babes refused to feed," Balon explained gently. "The women tried but the babes wouldn't take milk. They were too weak to survive."

Brienne stared at him, defeat weighing heavily on her heart. She knew the babies were fragile, perhaps too weak to nurse. She's seen too much of this kind of suffering while traveling the lawless Riverlands with Jaime. But she'd thought she'd gotten to them in time, that these babies, unlike so many before them, would have a chance.

"My Lady Ser, Ela grows stronger." Balon came closer to her, his voice still gentle. "We may have lost some of the babes but others, like Ela, will live. No matter how hard we try, we cannot save everyone. We must rejoice in our success and accept our losses."

Brienne nodded and dropped her head. She knew and accepted loss. She'd lost people who had mattered to her before; her mother, her brother, King Renly and Lady Catelyn. She'd seen death and even delivered it, but her kills had been justified. The men she'd killed had been intent on harming her or those in her care. Tiny babies, thrown away as if they had no value, was another kind of death, and harder for her to accept.

Past Balon, movement outside the window caught her attention. She walked to the windows to see three bright birds soaring across the sky. She smiled when she realized they weren't birds. It was the other three dragons. She'd left Catren, the dragons' leader, along with Ardayn and Serdun, her most ardent guards, with Griff. They'd gone to inspect the troops with the Dornish lords.

Tyrion had made the suggestion to the Dornishmen. Brienne admired the shrewd logic behind the Hand's offer. The Lannister forces were reassembling. The men from the Crownlands and from the nearer keeps of the Reach and the Stormlands were already here. The Westerland troops and the men from further south were still several days away but the crown's army was already impressive. They'd taken over the makeshift camp on the tourney grounds previously created for Daenerys's khalasar.

Observing the Lannister forces would show the Dornish how strong and fierce the crown's forces were and would become. It was a warning to the Dornishmen that they'd face a powerful, battle-hardened opposition if they still considered attacking King's Landing or Highgarden. They'd also seen how fierce and disciplined the young dragons already were. That should be enough to assure the lords of retaliation from Drogon and Rhaegal if they dared harm the young dragons.

It also gave the Dornish a chance to see Jaime as Lord Commander of the southern forces. The lords had only heard bad things about Jaime and thought the worst of him. Seeing the respect his men had for him would be a new experience for the Dornish lords. Jon had faith in Jaime, had put him in charge of the crown's forces and had included Jaime in troop inspections and battle planning. The Dornish lords and Griff had to develop the same confidence if they were to go into battle together against the Army of the Dead.

Brienne turned away from the sight of the dragons swooping down from the sky. The maester, his assistants and the wet nurses still watched her with frightened concern. She forced herself to smile and nod at them.

"I thank you all for your efforts," she commended them. "The children were in grave condition when we brought them to you. None of the babes would have survived without your help. Seven blessings to you all."

The fear eased out of their expressions as relief relaxed their features. They repeated the blessing back to her, hopeful smiles replacing the grim stiffness. Then Brienne understood their fear. They thought _she_ would do them harm, or order the dragons to harm them, for having lost two babes. They were used to suffering under the brutality of Cersei and Joffrey and the ineffectual rule of Tommen. Their reigns had spread fear and mistrust throughout the Seven Kingdoms.

She went to check on the other babes, each still weak and struggling to survive. Her heart ached to see them fighting so hard while so helpless. What would happen even if they did survive? She couldn't expect the maester to keep them indefinitely. Sending them back to the streets with Moqorro would only begin the cycle of illness and starvation again. Along with these babes, there were children like Cara, orphans in a city where so many didn't have the means to care for themselves, let alone abandoned children.

She didn't fault Jon and Daenerys for focusing on the threat of the Night King. The Army of the Dead could destroy all of Westeros. No one would be alive for them to save if they didn't defeat the threat beyond the Wall. But there were so many who could not wait and needed to be saved now. Griff was here. This should be his focus while Daenerys and Jon prepared the kingdom for the Great War.

She'd just decided to talk to him when the far door, which had been only partly ajar, opened. An extremely thin woman with chin-length dark curls and faded olive skin stood in the doorway. She leaned heavily on the frame, as though her slight body weight was too much for her to carry. Moqorro went to the woman's side and offered her his hand. The woman accepted his support and allowed him to assist her to the table near the door. An assistant put a goblet on the table while the woman sat in the chair the Red Priest pulled out for her.

"Lady Ser Brienne of Tarth," the woman said in a weak but still musical voice. "It's a pleasure to meet the love and the mother of dragons. I am Ellaria Sand."

Brienne's eyes widened. This was the woman who had poisoned Jaime's daughter, killed Princes Doran and Trystane and sided with Daenerys in the war against Cersei. In retaliation, Euron had killed two of Prince Oberyn's daughters, his Sand Snakes, at sea. Cersei had poisoned Oberyn's daughter Tyene and forced Ellaria to watch her death. Ellaria had only survived the weeks in the dark, dirty black cells due to Qyburn's strengthening tonics.

"_That witch will die," Cersei vowed. "She'll die as slowly and painfully as I can manage it."_

Brienne remembered Cersei's rage when she'd talked about Ellaria. But the Dornishwoman was also Daenerys's ally. She and Jon must have had Ellaria moved to the maester's chamber when they'd inspected the prisoners. It was obvious Ellaria was still weak from her ordeal. Her hands shook visibly as she used both to bring the goblet to her lips.

"Lady Sand," Brienne greeted.

She was unsure how to address this woman. She looked like a perfect lady, with her fine features and straight posture. She was the bastard daughter of a Dornish lord and had been Oberyn's long-time lover. She was mother to four of his Sand Snakes. All accounts said she was a kind and loving mother. Yet Ellaria had killed both Jaime and Griff's families. Had revenge or grief pushed her to kill then into the alliance with Daenerys? Was she friend or foe?

"I am no Lady," Ellaria corrected, echoing the phrase Brienne had often said to define herself. "You may call me Ellaria, my Lady Ser."

She put the goblet back down with careful precision and sighed deeply. It appeared the small act had used up much of her strength. Still, her dark eyes were focused and determined. The weeks in captivity had done little to dull her dusky beauty. Her cheeks were flushed from the exertion and her eyes were clear. She smiled down at Ela, guarded by Gallan and Allwyn, across the room from her.

"Have you come to take me to the hearing?" Ellaria looked up to Brienne again.

"No, I came to see the children." Brienne shook her head and frowned.

She knew nothing about a hearing. Who would request Ellaria attend a hearing and why? This woman had harmed both the Lannisters and the Martells, murdered members of their families. But Ellaria was also the mother of three remaining Sand Snakes, the daughters of Prince Oberyn. She had sided with Daenerys and had given Qyburn a contact in Dorne. Clearly, the woman still had influence among the Dornish.

"Prince Aegon is a good man," Ellaria spoke, looking back at Ela and the dragons again. "I see so much Martell in him. He was fortunate to have inherited his Uncle Doran's intelligence and his mother's kindness. But he also has his Uncle Oberyn's hot blood. He'll rule wisely but only if he curbs his temper. Oberyn was never able to control his rage, his desire to avenge his sister and his niece. He would still be alive today if he'd only been able to let go of that anger."

Brienne looked down at the dragons. Gallan and Allwyn had barely reacted to Ellaria. Then she recalled Balon saying they'd come last night with Griff, Podrick and Catren. Ellaria didn't bother the dragons since they'd already met her the night before. Griff hadn't mentioned seeing Ela because Griff had come to meet Ellaria. He'd met with the woman who had murdered his uncle Doran and cousin Trystane.

"You cannot fault the king for having anger against you. You're the woman who murdered his uncle and his cousin," Brienne pointed out.

"Those are Lannister lies." Ellaria's eyes flashed as she looked up from Ela and the dragons. "Along with the false stories of their love and concern for Princess Mrycella. They didn't have love for Mrycella, any more than I had hatred for my children's uncle or cousin. I would never harm Prince Doran, who treated me as a sister or Prince Trystane, who loved my daughters as _his_ sisters."

Brienne blinked, unsure how to respond. Ellaria seemed so sure in her claims, her gaze direct and clear, her hands clenched into fists and her posture straight and upright. The woman believed her own insistence that she'd done no harm to Jaime or Griff's kin. But Myrcella had died in Jaime's arms while Trystane had died onboard the ship bringing them back from Dorne. Was it possible Ellaria was innocent? Perhaps she hadn't known Oberyn's daughters would assassinate the ruling Prince of Dorne and his heir?

A knock on the door interrupted her before Brienne could consider further on the topic. She hurried to kneel beside the dragons and Ela. The dragons looked up from the babe to stare at the still closed door. It was opened to several men in Lannister guard's uniform. The men quickly put their hands behind their backs when they saw the dragons.

"Pardon, my Lady Ser." The lead guard's voice trembled as he addressed Brienne. "Lord Tyrion has requested we bring the prisoner, Ellaria Sand, to the Throne Room."

Brienne's sense of unease grew. No one had told her of a meeting in the Throne Room. Was Griff aware of what Tyrion was doing? Why did the Hand want to see the frail woman who was accused of masterminding the murders of Myrcella, Doran and Trystane? He had to know how weak she was. He'd come to see the children. Why wouldn't he come to her? And why meet in the Throne Room instead of the smaller council room they'd been using since the dragons had taken King's Landing?

Ellaria rose slowly and shuffled to the doors. Her progress was slow and noticeably strained. Even walking across the room tired the woman. How would she ever make it to the Throne Room? The guards stood by the door and waited, watching the dragons instead of the woman. Finally, Balon stepped forward.

"May I offer my assistance?" the courtly knight questioned.

Ellaria hesitated, wiping at the thin layer of sweat over her brow. She looked from the kindly knight to the stiff guards then to Brienne. Brienne rose from the dragons and nodded to the woman. Prolonging her suffering would not lead to the answers Tyrion seemed to want from her.

"Lord Tyrion is very busy running the capital in Queen Daenerys's absence," Brienne pointed out. "If he wishes to see you, he'll want to come quickly."

Ellaria turned back to Balon and nodded. The knight carefully lifted the frail woman into his arms. The contrast between the two was striking. Ellaria, with her frail figure and dark hair, was almost lost in the knight's powerful, steady arms. His pale skin and light brown hair seemed more pronounced against Ellaria's dark curls. Balon turned to Brienne, barely even registering Ellaria's weight in his arms.

"My Lady Ser, will you stay with the children?" he asked.

"No, the dragons and I will go with you," Brienne decided. She turned to the guards. "Ser Balon and I will see the prisoner to the Throne Room. You will remain here until we return."

The guards didn't object. In fact, they looked relieved, probably preferring to stay with harmless babies than following fire-breathing dragons. The men eased into the room, careful to stay away from the dragons. Brienne took Ela from Gallan and Allwyn and hugged her as she carried the baby to Moqorro.

Ela cried as she was transferred to the Red Priest's arms. Brienne's heart ached as the baby tried to reach out for the dragons. Gallan and Allwyn cried too, sharps yelps that indicated they were also hurt by the separation. Still, the dragons didn't go to the child. They knew their first duty was to their mother and her protection.

"We'll be back soon, love," Brienne promised as she stroked Ela's soft dark curls.

Tears continued to fall down the babe's face but Ela settled in Moqorro's arms. Brienne watched sadly as she and the dragons followed after Balon. As they passed through the doorway, Brienne was surprised to see the concerned frown on Ellaria's face.

"Moqorro will take good care of Ela." Brienne didn't know why she felt compelled to comfort this woman. "He was the one who saved the babies from dying in the streets."

"She reminds me of my own daughters," Ellaria said, the frown deepening on her face. "From the day they were born, they were all just as fierce and determined as your little Jorrāelagon. My youngest, Loreza, was also frail when she was born." Tears filled the Dornishwoman's eyes. "Each day, as I watched Tyene's body wither before me, I prayed for my remaining daughters. Prince Aegon assured me they were safe and well, as eager to see me as I am to return to them."

If true, that confirm Brienne's suspicions that Griff had come to King's Landing from Dorne, not Tyrosh. He'd gone to Sunspear and made his claim to the Dornish throne. He'd won enough of the Dornish lords to his side to challenge Manfrey's right to rule. All that remained was to prove his blood claim. Griff's understanding of prophecy had led him to _Dawn_, proof of his blood tie to Elia Martell. His uncanny resemblance to Rhaegar, along with the dragons at his side, proved his Targaryen blood.

Brienne had expected Griff to outright take the Iron Throne and the Seven Kingdoms. Her king proved to be far more cunning. By taking Dorne first, he now had two powerful armies at his back. When Daenerys challenged him, Griff could meet her on even footing. Their armies were about the same size and Griff had an advantage in the Dornishmen. The Dornish were fierce warriors who knew the territory and how to strike from the shadows. Even Aegon the First and his sister-wives could not hold Dorne. It was unlikely Daenerys would do any better, especially since the Prince of Dorne had dragons of his own.

Though the Gods had made her the keeper of their dragons, the five were as bonded to Griff as they were to her. They would defend their father as fiercely as they defended their mother, even against their own blood. The young dragons saw Drogon as a protective but distant uncle who was ready to come to their aid but unable or unwilling to raise and nurture them. Griff was the father the five loved and who's admiration and praise they sought, who's touch they craved and who's patient guidance molded them into the disciplined warriors they were becoming.

Her troubled thoughts occupied her mind so completely, Brienne blinked when they reached the doors to the Throne Room. Balon barely seemed to notice Ellaria's weight as he patiently stood to the side. Brienne nodded to the guards standing by the door. The men stood with their hands behind their back, standing very straight, trying hard not to look at the dragons. None attempted to open the doors, too intent on _not_ watching Allwyn and Gallan. Brienne opened the doors herself and led Balon, Ellaria and the dragons into the vast, nearly empty hall.

Griff and the Dornish lords were inside, talking quietly amongst themselves. They stopped when Brienne entered the room. Brienne thought Griff stiffened but it was hard to be sure from across the room. The men moved to one side and turned to face the single cushioned chair in the room. The chair was near the remains of the Iron Throne but far enough away to be free of the cooled, molten steel that covered the dais, steps and floor closest to the throne. Catren, Serdun and Ardayn had taken perches along the lumps of metal, giving them the highest vantage point in the hall.

"Your Grace, Ser Balon and I have brought Ellaria Sand," Brienne said formally.

She bowed and then stood tall and straight, as a knight should. Griff frowned at her, his eyes narrowing slightly. Brienne sensed something in her address had annoyed him. His expression smoothed when he looked beyond her to Balon still holding Ellaria in his arms. Allwyn and Catren went to join the other on the iron mound. The Dornish lords looked from her to Griff then amongst themselves. Brienne was sure she'd disturbed an intense, private conversation. The Dornish lords held themselves stiffly, as if displeased by what they'd been discussing before she arrived.

"Thank you, Lady Ser Brienne," Griff answered her just as formally. He nodded to Balon. "Ser Balon, bring her here."

Griff walked to the chair. Balon carried Ellaria across the room and bent down to set her on her feet. The woman held onto Balon for a moment as she struggled for balance. She gave him a grateful smile as the knight backed away from her.

"Stay, Ser Balon," Griff requested. "We may have some questions for you."

If Balon was surprised by the request, he didn't show it. Instead, he nodded and moved to the side. Brienne watched, startled, as Griff indicated to the chair. Ellaria appeared equally shocked, her eyes widening. It was accepted that only the king was allowed to sit. Others had to stand in his presence unless invited to sit. This was the only chair in the room. Griff, the Prince of Dorne and the rightful King of the Seven Kingdoms, was giving the only chair to the woman who had murdered his uncle and cousin.

Ellaria hesitated for a few seconds before sinking into the chair, her fragile state apparent in the tired sigh. "Thank you, your Grace."

Anders snorted. "You show too much kindness to this woman, your Grace. She's responsible for the murder of your kin."

Ellaria shook her head in protest. "No! I didn't kill them. I didn't kill anyone."

"Many people are responsible for the murders of my kin," Griff responded, raising his voice to be heard over Ellaria's pleas. "We cannot question them all to learn their motives and goals, but we can question this one."

"I had no motive," Ellaria insisted. "I had no desire to harm my children's family."

"Doran didn't want war with the Lannisters," Manfrey growled. "This one wanted revenge for Oberyn's death. When Doran refused to go along with her plans, she and the Sand Snakes killed Doran and Trystane."

"Lies!" Ellaria cried. "All lies. The Lannisters are responsible. This treachery is their doing. These lies are their doing."

"The lies are yours, you vile, hateful bitch!" a voice snarled from the doorway.

Brienne whirled around and gasped. Cersei Lannister, resplendent in a heavily embroidered gown of Lannister red with gold accents, her crown proudly atop her shorn but perfectly styled hair, stood in the doorway. Her cheeks were flushed with color and her green eyes flashed with the fire raging inside her.

The lioness had returned.


	37. Lioness Keeper

The Keeper

Chapter 37 – Lioness Keeper

Brienne stared at Cersei Lannister as the lioness stalked into the Throne Room. Jaime and Tyrion followed quietly behind their sister. Several Lannister guards joined them, standing just inside the doors, their arms crossed behind their backs. Cersei ignored them as she strode down the hall, her eyes flashing with rage. She looked every inch the regal, beautiful queen with her head held high and her posture perfect. Everyone turned to watch the deposed former Queen of Westeros.

The dragons squawked in warning but didn't leave their perches. Cersei was no threat to them, no matter how angry she was. Cersei stumbled to an abrupt stop, the color draining from her face as her eyes widening with her shock. Brienne frowned at the former queen. How did Cersei manage to forget about the dragons? Everyone else in the room, from the Dornish lords to the Lannister guards, knew how dangerous they were, taking care to keep their distance from the deadliest creatures in King's Landing. Then she realized Cersei wasn't looking at the dragons, she was staring at Griff.

"Rhaegar." Cersei's voice quivered. Her whole body began to tremble visibly. "Why are you here? Why did you come back? You're dead. Robert killed you. You deserve to be dead!"

Brienne jerked as she looked from Cersei to Griff. Having never seen Rhaegar, she had no idea just how much Griff resembled the late Prince of Dragonstone. Jaime had also gone sickly white when he'd first seen Griff, but not like Cersei. Unlike his sister, Jaime had a strong grasp on reality. He'd known the young, vibrant Griff couldn't be Rhaegar, not after so much time had passed. Cersei, however, wasn't Jaime.

She looked around wildly, her head whipping with such force it dislodged her crown, then turned to Jaime. "Do you see him?" Cersei demanded. "Do you see Rhaegar?"

"No, Cersei," Jaime stepped forward. "That isn't him. Rhaegar isn't here."

Cersei didn't listen to Jaime. She whirled back to face the living image of Rhaegar Targaryen. Her crown tumbled from her head but Cersei didn't notice. The delicate gold circlet fell to the floor, bounced once then landed on its side, rocked gently, then circled to a stop with a musical tinkling. Cersei brushed past the symbol of what she's sacrificed her whole life to achieve and advanced on Griff.

"Yes, he is," Cersei snarled, glaring at Griff. "Why did you come back? You chose to marry that feeble, flat-chested Elia Martell over me. You paid for it, didn't you? Robert made you pay for it. My father made you pay for it. You'd still be alive, you'd be great, if you had married _me_."

Brienne looked over to Griff. His hands were curled into fists but his face was composed. He remained silent, allowing Cersei to vent her rage. Beyond him, the dragons rose from their seated positions, watching from their high perches on the remains of the Iron Throne. The five were still but their bodies were tense, ready to defend their family if a true threat appeared.

Cersei threw out her hand, gesturing to the young dragons. "I should have been the mother of dragons. I should have given birth to the next generation of Targaryen kings. With me at your side and dragons at your back, you would have become the greatest, most powerful king who ever lived."

Brienne again looked at Griff. Why didn't he speak? But Griff wasn't watching Cersei. No, he was looking the Dornish lords, gauging their reactions to Cersei's ranting. The lords were silent and tense as they stared at Cersei, their disgust and dislike clear in their curled mouths and stiff stances. A chill slid down Brienne's spine. Her king had a plan and was trying to use Cersei to his advantage. But what advantage could he gain from a near-mad woman's shrill ravings?

"But that didn't happen, did it?" Cersei continued with vicious satisfaction. "Because you're dead. Do you hear me, Rhaegar? You're _dead_. Robert killed you! Then my father and Jaime made sure your Dornish whore and her brats died as painfully as they could!"

Behind her, Jaime shuddered and stumbled back. Tyrion put his hand on his brother's arm to steady him. The Dornish lords continued to stare at Cersei and, almost reflexively, reached for their swords. The dragons puffed and squawked angrily in response to their aggressive actions.

"No!" Brienne cried. "No swords! You're upsetting the dragons."

Everyone froze, including Cersei. The furious light in her eyes faded as she began to regain control of her emotions. The Dornish lords stared, wide-eyed, at the dragons as they slowly moved their hands away from their swords. The Lannister guards shifted closer to each other, crowding as near to the doors as they could get while still inside the hall.

Brienne looked towards the remains of the Iron Throne. The dragons watched from their high perches, their reptilian eyes cold and clear. They were only concerned about their family. The tension in the air had triggered their protective instincts. If she and Griff were closer, safely within the dragons' protection, the five wouldn't react so harshly to the other occupants in the hall. She tugged on Griff's arm and nodded to the five. Griff squeezed her fingers and leaned closer.

"Go to them," he murmured quietly. "I'll be fine."

She released him and turned for the dragons. As she did, she saw Manfrey and Andres watching her with narrowed, knowing eyes. Too late she remembered no one was allowed to touch a royal unless the royal initiated the exchange. She had just brazenly taken the arm of the new Prince of Dorne without permission and without repercussions. Then he had squeezed her hand in return, a clear indication that he wasn't offended by her touch.

Cersei had also seen the exchange. "Don't touch him!" she snarled. "He's not for you, you slow-witted, round-eyed _cow_."

It was Tyrion's turn to stumble back as he looked from Cersei to Brienne then to Jaime. Brienne could almost see the Hand's mind working as he blinked rapidly, assimilating Cersei's furious taunt into his previous knowledge. Jaime flushed and reached for Cersei. But it was Griff's icy voice that froze them all into place.

"Say one more word against Brienne and you'll experience true pain. A pain so great you'll beg for the torture my mother endured as a relief," Griff snarled.

Brienne had never seen Griff this angry, not even when he'd first seen Jaime. Griff deliberately stepped in front of Brienne, blocking her from Cersei's view. The new Prince of Dorne cut the former Queen of Westeros with a glare almost as sharp as the magical sword _Dawn_ hanging from his sword belt. She must have seen something in his face that terrified her. Cersei gasped and stumbled back. She shuddered and her face so drained of color that even her lips were bloodless.

"I'm not Rhaegar," Griff continued. "I am Aegon Martell Targaryen."

"No." Cersei shook her head, lurching from Griff to turn to Jaime. "No, this can't be. He's dead. They're dead. Jaime, tell him. Rhaegar, Aegon, Elia, they're all _dead_. They can't hurt me."

"Hurt you?" Jaime looked at his sister, grief and sadness darkening his eyes. "They never hurt you. Aerys refused to marry you to Rhaegar and Father refused me for Elia. Aegon wasn't even born at the time."

Cersei crossed to Jaime and grabbed the breastplate of his Lannister uniform. "Father promised me I would be the mother of dragons. He _promised_. I should have had many blond-haired, violet-eyed dragons. Then none of this would have happened. I should have married the prince, not the king. Then my children would be dragons, not lions. The dragons have been reborn. I should be their mother."

She was nearly sobbing at the end, tugging on his uniform, trying to shake him. Brienne's heart ached as she watched Jaime's grief. Cersei had always been on the edge of madness, trying to live up to Tywin's brutal example. She hadn't had the cunning and might her father had to enforce his commands. She'd become queen, not because she was smart or strong, but because she'd killed all those who opposed her. But she had also killed all those who supported her and her last child. Her only touchstone left was Jaime, the brother she loved, envied and nearly destroyed.

"Cersei, Aegon is not dead." Jaime tried to uncurl her fingers from his breastplate. "Rhaegar's son is alive and he plans to lead the Targaryens."

"No." Cersei looked from Jaime's face to his hand, seeing him try to break the link between them. "It can't be true. The witch can't be right. 'Gold their crowns, gold their shrouds.' The valonqar. I won't let it be true!"

Ellaria, who had been silent and small, behind the Dornish lords, spoke. "Now do you believe me? She's insane. She makes up conspiracies then punishes us for her madness."

The Dornishmen turned to look at the frail woman. Ellaria was still seated, visibly weak but her dark eyes flashed with life. The men moved aside so Ellaria and Cersei could see each other, though they were separated by the half the length of the room. Brienne shifted so she was closer to the dragons, trying to create a buffer between the five and the spiking tension. But Griff was still standing closer to Ellaria, out of the dragons' fire range. The five remained tense and alert.

Cersei whirled from Jaime to glare at Ellaria. "Madness? Is it madness to mourn my daughter? My only daughter? Myrcella was good. She was sweet and kind, the best thing I'd ever created, ever done. And you murdered her!"

"Lies!" Ellaria cried. "All Lannister lies! Myrcella was like a daughter to me. From the day she came to Sunspear, I welcomed her."

"How dare you!" Cersei raged. "How dare you even speak her name."

"It's true!" Ellaria turned to Griff. "From the day she arrived, I treated Myrcella as a daughter. When I had new gowns made for my daughters, I always made sure Myrcella's dresses were cut from the same material. When my daughters swam at the Water Garden, Myrcella was with them. Obara and Nymeria were even teaching her to fight with spear and whip."

"Liar!" Cersei gasped, so angry her body shook with rage.

She curled her hands into claws as she lunged for Ellaria. She was too far away to reach the other woman before Jaime caught her. Jaime grabbed his sister around the waist and lifted her off the floor.

"Let me go!" Cersei twisted frantically to free herself from her brother's arms. "I will kill her with my bare hands!"

The lords' expressions hardened at witnessing the former queen's furious tirade. Their dislike darkened to hatred as their postures stiffened. Brienne, standing close to the dragons near the remains of the throne, saw Griff look from Cersei to the lords. She watched them lean closer to each other, and to Griff, unconsciously closing ranks against the former Queen of Westeros. Griff, armed with his keen understanding of human nature and battle strategy, was exploiting their already intense hatred of the Lannisters. He'd planned this, knowing Cersei's vitriol would push them to side with their new prince, without even knowing they were doing it.

Ellaria must have also sensed the shift in atmosphere. She turned away from Cersei's ranting to stare at Griff, her eyes narrowed in calculation. Then she turned to look at Manfrey, allowing her lower lip to tremble pitifully. The castellan's swarthy face was red with fury and his jaw was stiff as he met her gaze.

"What I say is true," Ellaria insisted. "You know it's the truth, Ser Manfrey. You were witness. Didn't Myrcella wear gowns as beautiful and costly as my daughters? Wasn't she with Oberyn's daughters at every occasion? Did I not introduce her to every important guest as a member of our family? Wasn't she learning to fight under the protection of your guards?"

Jaime was still struggling to hold Cersei. Tyrion, who had been watching them, whirled to face Ellaria and the Dornish lords. The Hand's gaze swept over the lords, taking in their stiff postures and hard glares. Tyrion moved forward, also seeing the change in the Dornish lords' stances and their unconscious actions to protect their new prince. Like everyone, except Jaime and Cersei, he looked at the castellan of Sunspear.

"Is this true, Ser Manfrey?" Griff asked.

Manfrey hesitated, glaring at Ellaria with visible anger. Ellaria raised her chin and used the arms of the chair to hold her body straight and upright. Even so, she still projected an air of delicate humility and weakness. Brienne frowned, unable to forget the Dornishwoman's look of cunning when she'd stared at Griff.

"Ser Manfrey," Griff prompted.

"Yes, it's true," Manfrey snarled. "But it changed. _She_ changed after Oberyn's death."

"My love had just died due to the continued machinations of Tywin Lannister and his poisoned seed." Tears spilled from Ellaria's lovely, almond-shaped eyes. "Did you expect me to attend parties so soon after his death? You blame me because I didn't order gowns or take my daughters to swim? Their father had just been murdered by the Lannister's dog."

"You wanted revenge," Manfrey reminded her. "You wanted Doran to send troops to King's Landing. You even suggested we dismember Myrcella as payment for her family's treacheries."

Cersei, who had exhausted herself fighting against Jaime, howled in outrage. She fought her brother again but with noticeably less energy. Brienne looked back at the dragons. They glanced at Cersei then turned back to Manfrey. Cersei's rage wasn't a threat to them but Manfrey's sword might become one, if the castellan's flushed face was any indication. Still, Ellaria held her head high.

"In my grief and anger," Ellaria pointed out. "Nothing came of it. I didn't harm Myrcella. Unlike the Lannisters and their dogs, we don't hurt little girls in Dorne. Every one of these Lannisters have innocent blood on their hands, including the blood of children. Ask them! Ask them if they haven't murdered children to maintain their status. Ask them!"

Manfrey looked from Ellaria to Griff. Almost as one, the Dornishmen turned to look at Tyrion, Cersei and Jaime. Tyrion's eyes widened as he backed away and looked frantically at his brother and sister. Cersei glared at them defiantly. Brienne gasped softly. What was Ellaria saying? Yes, she could easily imagine Cersei killing children but Jaime and Tyrion? Why would they commit such atrocities? Suddenly, a memory came back to her, from just after releasing the Valyrian steel swords.

"_Joffery ordered the murder of Robert's children?" Jaime asked her, his eyes stark._

"_We did it to protect our children." Cersei's eyes narrowed. "Don't forget, you've done the same yourself."_

Brienne looked at Jaime pleadingly, trying desperately to believe he wasn't capable of such a thing. Jaime's face drained of color and his arms dropped from Cersei's waist, a clear indication of his guilt. His closed his eyes as a shudder shook his frame. Cersei stumbled and grabbed his arm, fighting for balance. Beside them, Tyrion hung his head. Everyone stared at the Lannisters in silent condemnation except for Griff and the young dragons.

Griff turned to Brienne and the dragons, watching her with concern darkening his indigo eyes. She took deep breaths to force herself to remain stoic. The five flew down from their perches. Ardayn and Serdun landed beside her while Catren, Allwyn and Gallan went to Griff. Brienne knelt to hold her most ardent guards close. They leaned heavily into her, probably needing to be held as much as she needed to hold them. The dragons, with their greater emotional sensitivity, felt the lords' hatred and disgust even more than she did. They also sensed how wounded she was by Jaime's silent admission.

Griff continued to watch her, more concerned with her reaction than the lords he'd successfully manipulated into guarding him. It took effort but Brienne nodded to assure him she was fine. Only then did Griff kneel down to hold Allwyn, the most excitable dragon. He murmured comfortingly to Catren and Gallan, who leaned against him. The dragons, not yet eight months old, were like any anxious children when confronted with such harsh emotions. They needed their parents' reassurance and support.

Brienne looked away from Griff, her gaze suddenly trapped by Anders Yornwood. The Lord of Yornwood, leader of the second most powerful house in Dorne, looked from her to Griff then back, his eyes narrowing in cold calculation. For a moment, he reminded her unpleasantly of Euron Greyjoy. The Ironborn King had looked at her and the dragons as possible tools in his plans to become the next King of Westeros. Brienne held Anders's gaze without flinching. Euron had died when he'd turned his sword on the five. No one would succeed in using the dragons as weapons in the wars of men.

"The Lannisters treacheries don't excuse yours," Manfrey insisted, drawing their attention back to himself and Ellaria. "You were responsible for Prince Doran and Prince Trystane's deaths. Their blood is on _your_ hands!"

"That's not true!" Ellaria protested, sinking down into the seat as her strength faded. "I didn't kill them."

"You lie," Manfrey accused.

"Why would I lie?' Ellaria protested. "You accuse me of murdering Prince Doran, brother to my dearest Oberyn. You accuse me of murdering Prince Trystane, who was as brother to my darling daughters. Why would I do such things?"

"Because Doran refused to wage war against the Lannisters," Manfrey responded, his flush darkening with his anger. "You killed him and Trystane to take control of Dorne."

"How could I control Dorne?" Ellaria questioned. "I have no Martell blood. My daughters have no claim to the throne. Who would support me if I tried to claim Dorne?"

Manfrey paused and stared at Ellaria. The fragile woman held his gaze. Ellaria had a point. She couldn't control Dorne. Only someone with a blood claim to Prince Doran would be accepted. The Martell bloodlines, as Ned had reminded them, went all the way back to Queen Nymeria herself. The Dornish would not accept the bastard daughter of a minor lord as their new Princess of Dorne.

"Ser Manfrey, I know you're outraged at your kin's murders but so am I," she insisted quietly. "Please, don't allow your emotions to overrule your logic. How could I have possibly committed these murders? Prince Doran was always surrounded by guards, including Aero Hotah. Are you saying that the guards stood by quietly by as I, a woman with no standing, murdered our prince? Where in all of Dorne would you find such weak and disloyal men?"

Again, Manfrey remained silent, giving weight to Ellaria's logical question. The other lords were now looking amongst themselves, considering what Ellaria was saying. How could Ellaria have enough influence over Doran's guards to kill the Prince of Dorne? How would she have escaped Sunspear if she'd truly murdered Doran?

Anders looked from Ellaria to glare at the castellan. "True Dornishmen would never turn against our prince but Lannister dogs dig into the deepest filth. Who's to say they didn't send agents to kill Prince Doran?"

Ellaria lowered her head, again projecting delicate weakness. The lords were now studying her thoughtfully, considering her words. Tyrion looked at the lords then glared at the frail woman. He didn't accuse her directly. Instead he took a deep breath and spoke in a calm, even tone.

"What about Myrcella and Trystane?" Tyrion asked quietly. "They were also murdered."

Tyrion looked at his brother and sister. Cersei hung limply to Jaime's arm, exhausted by her own raging anger. Only the former queen's eyes still had energy, the fire in them burning with fury. Jaime was silent, head bowed, unwilling or unable to speak for himself. Tyrion looked from his siblings to the dragons, still huddled close to Brienne and Griff. The five watched Tyrion calmly. They had no animosity towards the youngest lion.

"How do you claim I murdered them from Dorne?" Ellaria asked, raising her head with effort. "The Kingslayer took them from us. How could I have murdered Prince Trystane?"

"I…I left Trystane on the ship when it reached Blackwater Bay," Jaime finally spoke. "I knew Trystane wouldn't be safe in King's Landing until I delivered Myrcella's body and explained the circumstances. I know Doran and Trystane had nothing to do with her death."

"This bitch did!" Again, Cersei lunged for Ellaria but Jaime pulled her back.

"But Prince Trystane was dead when you went back for him?" Ellaria prompted. "How do you propose I killed him when I was in Dorne?"

"The Sand Snakes," Cersei hissed, struggling with Jaime. "They're as vicious as you are."

Anders snorted. "You're saying Oberyn's daughters boarded a ship docked in the Blackwater Bay, surrounded by Lannister guards, unseen? Then they walked into Prince Trystane's cabin, also surrounded by Lannister guards, to kill our prince? You would have us believe they slipped back into the sea, again without being seen, and swam back to Dorne?"

"Your Grace," Ellaria's voice quivered as she called to Griff. "Oberyn's daughters were brave and fierce but they weren't fish or bird, nor dragons. They could not fly nor swim from King's Landing to Sunspear."

Griff rose from his crouched position, Allwyn still in his arms. Catren and Gallan leaned against him as Allwyn wrapped its tail around his waist. Fresh tears welled up in Ellaria's eyes as she observed the blue-grey dragon wrap itself around Griff.

"I wish they could have met your dragons," Ellaria's voice trembled. "I wish you could have met your uncles. There is so much of them in you. Perhaps Oberyn wouldn't have held such anger if he could have held you, known his sister's son lived. Especially if he could have seen you share the same smile."

Brienne gasped softly. _Oberyn's smile._ She recalled the sharp pinpricks of memory when she'd first seen Griff's cool, slow smile. She'd seen Oberyn when he'd come to King's Landing for Joffrey's wedding. She recalled the handsome prince who'd died trying to extract vengeance for his murdered sister and her children. Griff did indeed have Oberyn's smile, another clear indication of his Martell heritage. Several lords relaxed and looked to Griff, further reassured they followed the true Price of Dorne.

Cersei, on the other hand, was not reassured by what she was seeing. She was nearly trembling with her fury, hands clenched into tight fists. Ellaria lowered her head, as if the weight of it was too much for her to hold up. She shivered delicately but Cersei wasn't moved by the display.

"Your tears mean nothing!" Cersei snarled. "You murdered my daughter. My only daughter."

Ellaria sighed, looking small and defeated. "Your anger or hatred doesn't change the truth. I had nothing to do with her death."

"You kissed Myrcella before she left Dorne," Tyrion reminded her. "You poisoned her with the Long Farewell."

The Hand was calmer but no less angry that his sister. Tyrion had loved Myrcella and had done everything in his power to protect her. But Tywin Lannister had made too many enemies in his quest for power. Once he was gone, they had all fallen upon the remaining lions, striking at their weaknesses and tearing their family to shreds.

"I did no such thing," Ellaria insisted. "Yes, I kissed her. I showed affection for her. I didn't kill her with my love."

"You coated your lips with poison, then Myrcella ingested the poison," Tyrion insisted. "Qyburn identified the poison."

"Qyburn?" Griff interrupted. "You mean the man who claims to be the greatest Lannister killer in all the world? You trust his word?"

Tyrion jerked visibly. "Why would he lie?"

"Did Myrcella have a private cabin on the boat back to King's Landing?" Ned asked, speaking for the first time.

Tyrion stared at the Lord of Starfall. "Why does that matter?"

"It matters," Ned insisted. "Who had access to Myrcella once she was on the boat? Was she in a private room, alone?"

Tyrion looked to Jaime, who hesitated, then nodded.

"How did she die?" Ned asked. "Specifically, how long and what happened?"

Jaime's eyes darkened with the painful memories. "She and Trystane stayed on deck until we could no longer see Sunspear. Then I asked Myrcella to join me in her cabin. We talked for a few minutes then her nose began to bleed and she died."

"Did she complain of nausea or trouble with her sight?" Ned persisted

Jaime thought for a moment then shook his head slowly. "No, she didn't. She was fine until, suddenly, she wasn't."

"Why do you ask?" Tyrion's eyes narrowed, as if sensing a trap.

"I'm familiar with poisons," Ned explained. "I was taught how to use them and how to recognize them. The Long Farewell is highly lethal. A single drop can kill a babe in minutes. But Myrcella wasn't a baby. A kiss wouldn't be enough to kill her that quickly. She would have experienced distress, such as nausea, while the poison worked through her system. She'd have become noticeably sick. It would have taken hours, if not days, to kill with a kiss of the Long Farewell."

"Yes," Ellaria agreed instantly, her tears flowing freely. "Cersei chained me up opposite Tyene. She gave my daughter the kiss of death. My Tyene stayed strong. She assured me she was fine. Qyburn came later, I don't know when, and offered her a fatal dose. He said he couldn't give her the antidote because Cersei is a deeply cruel woman. She would find a worse way to torture my daughter if he didn't kill her mercifully. I watched as my daughter died before my eyes."

The Dornishwoman covered her face with her hands and broke into uncontrolled sobs. This time, several lords shifted closer to her, as if to offer comfort. Cersei's voice stopped them cold.

"You deserved it," the former queen hissed. "I'll find the rest of your daughters and make you truly sorry for what you've done."

"I've done nothing but mourn my darling Oberyn and suffered the loss of my beloved daughter," Ellaria cried, raising her head. "I've spent weeks chained up in a dark, dirty cell, watching my child wither before my eyes. Your cruelty and insanity know no bounds."

"You killed my daughter, my only daughter!" Cersei raged.

"I did not!" Ellaria denied. "You know the truth. Your order your brother to kill her, just as he killed Prince Trystane and brought his men to kill Prince Doran."

For an instant Cersei froze. There was silence as everyone absorbed Ellaria's claim. Brienne tightened her arms around Ardayn and Serdun as she looked to Griff. His face was blank with shock for a moment before he smoothed it to an expressionless mask. Jaime's eyes were wide and he shook his head in frantic denial. Tyrion's stepped forward, as though his smaller body could somehow shield his older brother.

"That's ridiculous!" Tyrion insisted. "Jaime loved Myrcella. He brought her back from Dorne to keep her safe."

"Jaime Lannister was the only one who could have killed them," Ellaria countered. "He and his man came into Dorne in secret when he could have simply come to the port. His man attacked Trystane but was stopped by Oberyn's daughters. By his own admission, the Kingslayer was alone with Myrcella when she died, supposedly from a poison that couldn't kill her as quickly as it did. He claimed Trystane was safe on his ship. Then we received his body with a sword wound through his head. The Kingslayer killed them for Cersei."

"You lying bitch," Cersei screamed. "You killed them."

Cersei tried to go to her but this time several Dornish lords intervene, blocking her path. Jaime quickly grabbed his sister's arm and dragged her back. Griff frowned as he looked from Ellaria to Cersei. Then he looked up at Manfrey. The castellan blinked rapidly and also stared from Ellaria to Cersei.

"Why?" Manfrey asked Ellaria, this time without hostility. "Why would the Kingslayer murder his own daughter?"

"Because Myrcella was a threat to their plans," Ellaria explained. "Their goal was always to rule Westeros. They couldn't do so while Tywin was alive. He would never have allowed them to marry each other and deprive himself of powerful martial connections. But once Tywin died, all that stood between them and the throne were Myrcella and Tommen. He murdered Myrcella and Trystane while she killed Tommen and Margery. Then Cersei took the Iron Throne and gave free reign to her insanity."

"Lies!" Cersei cried. "All lies."

Brienne looked around at the Dornish lords. They were again grouped tightly, standing against the Lannisters, with Griff and Ellaria behind them. They had made up their minds, consciously or unconsciously, that Cersei was guilty. Therefore, Ellaria must be innocent of the crimes Cersei accused her of. Ellaria had apparently also sensed the change in the lords' stances. She used the chair arms to help her sit tall and straight.

Ellaria looked directly as Cersei, her gaze cold and steady. "She would come to my cell to crow over Tyene's decaying body. She'd tell me how powerful she was, of the people she'd tortured and killed, how no one could stop her, not even her own father. She loved and feared and hated Tywin. He was the reason she couldn't be with the Kingslayer. She gloated over how furious Tywin had been when she admitted the Kingslayer was the father of her children. She even said she wanted to fuck her brother in front of Tywin so he could truly see what his children were."

Jaime released Cersei's arm as if it were on fire. He stepped away and stared at her, his mouth falling open in horror. Cersei stood tall, her chin raised in defiant confirmation. She looked back at him, head held high and fury in her wildfire green eyes.

"No," Jaime denied. "That's not true."

"What's not true?" Griff asked. "You weren't the father of Cersei's children?"

Jaime looked around the hall, as if he'd forgotten they had an audience. He met Griff's gaze for just an instant before looking away. Jaime deliberately didn't look at Brienne. Finally, he took a deep breath but didn't speak. Color flushed into his face and his eyes fell.

"What not true?" Griff asked again. "Cersei didn't blow up the Sept of Baelor? She didn't kill Margery and her family, your family and hundreds of others?"

"That was a terrible accident," Cersei insisted coldly, head still held high.

"Didn't your whelp kill himself rather than face his mother's insanity?" Anders growl.

Cersei flushed red. She opened her mouth to respond but the dragons hissed. She looked at them, her eyes wide, and said nothing.

"Kingslayer, you were the last person to see Trystane alive," Manfrey added. "Did you or your guards see any of Oberyn's daughters swimming or flying away after killing Trystane and evading your men?"

Jaime stared at the castellan of Sunspear, not even attempting to speak.

"Myrcella couldn't have died from a kiss of the Long Farewell," Ned pointed out. "Either she was given a far larger dose, which would have shown symptoms, or she died by other means."

"You were the only one with her when she died," Anders pointed out. "We have only your word for how she died."

Brienne drew in her breath sharply. The lords were siding with Ellaria and her lies. These men were about to convict Cersei and Jaime and exonerate Ellaria based on misinformation and their hatred of Tywin Lannister. Ellaria and Oberyn's daughters had murdered Griff's closest links to his mother and Jaime's only daughter. How could they not see Ellaria's guilt?

"Your Grace, that's not true," Brienne countered. "Qyburn identified the poison. He's an ex-maester. He knows about poisons."

Griff gave her a look that was half sympathy, half pity. "Qyburn, who claimed responsibility for every Lannister death in King's Landing? Brienne, Qyburn so hated the Lannisters that he would have taken credit for bolt that killed Tywin, if the imp weren't here to deny it."

Brienne gasped. Qyburn sole purpose for coming to the capital had been the destruction of House Lannister. He'd proudly claimed to have a hand in every Lannister death, even as far away as the Twins and Dorne. Could one man really have that much cunning and foresight? Had Qyburn lied to inflict as much pain as possible on the remaining lions? He'd even offered Tyene a merciful death to gain Ellaria's support, to further turn the Dornish against the Lannisters.

"Even so, why would he lie about how Myrcella died?" Brienne questioned. "Why would it matter to him which poison Cersei used to kill Tyene?"

"Because the Long Farewell is the only deadly poison with a known antidote," Ned explained. "It was the only poison he could give Cersei that wouldn't kill her, too. I understand Qyburn didn't want Cersei to die a quick death."

Ellaria crumpled, sobbing uncontrollably. The Dornish lords looked between Ellaria, weak and sobbing, and Cersei, furious and spitting hatred. Their sympathy was clearly with the delicate and frail Dornishwoman. Brienne looked over their heads to Tyrion. His expression with grim, his mouth pressed into a flat line. The Hand had read the situation as clearly as she had. There would be no justice for Myrcella, Trystane or Doran, not from these men.

"What about what you said to me in Dragonstone?' Tyrion demanded of Ellaria. "You allied with Queen Daenerys and wanted to attack King's Landing with fire and blood."

"I was fighting for Dorne!" Ellaria raised her head proudly. "All of Dorne will stand with me to avenge our prince. Daenerys offered me a way to do so, to defend my home and my people."

The Dornish lords stood tall and strong, showing the might of the Dornish houses and men. They would also have eagerly accepted the chance to join with the Dragon Queen, if it meant raining fire and blood over those who'd done so much to hurt them. The lords turned to look at Griff, the son of the dragon and the sun; the Targaryen prince who burned with the _fire_ of Dorne. Griff was surrounded by actual living dragons and carried _Dawn_, the sword of House Dayne, the _blood_ of Dorne. Their new prince would finally give them the vengeance they'd craved since the deaths of their beloved Princess Elia and her daughter, Rhaenys.

"I reminded you Myrcella was innocent." Tryion's voice rose with his anxiety. He understood the lords' mood. "You said she died because she was a Lannister."

"It's the truth," Andres agreed. "She died because Tywin Lannister, Cersei Lannister and Jaime Lannister wanted nothing more than the Iron Throne. Now you see what their ambitions and lies wrought. Your house and your future are as burnt and twisted as the Iron Throne they murdered so many to take."

The lords were now firmly on Ellaria's side. Nothing Tyrion said, and certainly nothing Cersei or Jaime did, would change their minds. Ellaria not only would walk free but she'd be hailed a hero in Dorne. She'd opposed the vicious Lannister queen, fought to avenge her prince, survived being imprisoned, borne the murder of her beloved daughter and endured weeks of suffering to emerge victorious. The lords saw Ellaria as a triumphant survivor of the mad queen's cruelty and injustice.

Brienne leaned forward, still hemmed in by Serdun and Ardayn. "Your Grace –"

"No, Brienne," Griff cut her off. "I won't interfere in this matter. These lords have come for parlay. Despite the clear evidence of all the harm the Lannisters have done, they're here. Ellaria is a citizen of Dorne. They will decide her fate."

Griff looked directly at her. Brienne knew that look. It was the implacable set jaw and hard eyes that told her she could not persuade him to change his mind. She'd seen it in Essos before, when she'd insisted he needn't fuss so much for her protection. Then, as now, he'd refused to listen to her and taken elaborate precautions at every port. Finally, she'd given up her protests, knowing she wouldn't change his mind.

Brienne looked past Griff to the Dornish lords. They were watching their exchange with tense expectation. What more could she say in front of these men? When Griff was sure he was right, he did what he wanted, just as he'd done in Essos. Further protest now was a waste of her time and undermined Griff's authority in front of his men. She was sworn to him. Such behavior was disloyalty at best, treason at worst.

"My Lords, what is your decision?" Griff asked quietly.

Ellaria, who'd also been staring at Griff, turned her sad, tearful eyes to the lords. They gathered together, talking amongst themselves. Cersei, who'd nearly exhausted herself with her fury, took audible gasping breaths. Jaime had her arm again, moving her further back, as if fearing the lords would kill his sister then and there. Only Tyrion stood his ground, watching the lords with tense expectation.

Balon, who'd been standing quietly to the side during the whole exchange, shifted slightly, drawing Brienne's attention. Balon had offered his assistance without hesitation and had earned the trust of the smallfolk. Such trust was worthless to people like Cersei but men – and dragons – had been killed by angry mobs of poor, neglected people. Brienne recalled what she'd thought when walking to the maester's chamber with Balon and the babies.

_A good king allowed those he trusted to offer advice and knew when to temper his own actions. Those who protected the king might have occasions to protect the king from himself._

Griff hadn't listened to her when she'd suggested she didn't need so much protection. But later, when they'd been alone in his cabin, he'd explained his logic. He hadn't been stubborn without cause. Any attempt to harm her, even an innocent jostle on the streets, would cause the dragons to fly to her defense. Once seen, they would be hunted. The streets would run red with blood if slavers knew there were baby dragons in Essos. Protecting her was the best way to protect the dragons. She hadn't agreed but he'd explained and she'd understood his reasoning.

Griff was reasonable, despite his hatred of the Lannisters. He would do what was best for the people, regardless of his personal feelings. But she couldn't oppose him in front of others. That undermined his authority and would make it appear she had influence over his decisions. Her best chance to change his mind was to talk to him in private, away from these men and their suspicions. She had to explain how wrong it would be to allow Ellaria to go unpunished for her actions. Griff was the new ruler of Dorne, not these men.

"Ellaria Sand, you will return with us to Dorne tomorrow," Manfrey announced.

Both Cersei and Ellaria cried out. The lords turned they back on Cersei's protests to focus on Ellaria. The Dornishwoman appeared small and helpless as she looked up at the lords.

"My daughters, what about my remaining daughters?" Ellaria gasped.

Manfrey's expression softened noticeably. "Your daughters are safe and well. We, their father's family, protect them. You will be reunited with them at the Water Palace."

"But," Andres stepped forward, "you'll remain at the Water Palace until we determine the truth of your claims. If you're found guilty, you will be executed immediately and your daughters will become wards of Prince Aegon."

"I'm not guilty," Ellaria insisted, tears streaming down her cheeks and onto the dirty, worn dress. "My heart belongs to Oberyn and Dorne. Everything I've done, I've done for our people. My loyalty is and will always be to Dorne."

"No!" Cersei cried, once again restrained by Jaime. "You will not go free. You will not live in comfort. You murdered my daughter! My only daughter. I will see you and your entire bloodline dead before I let you live."

"Cersei Lannister and her creature, Gregor Clegane, will also come with us," Manfrey continued, as if he hadn't heard Cersei's threats. "Perhaps a few weeks in a dark, dirty cell watching the Mountain's body decay will teach her humility before her own punishment."

Cersei froze, her eyes widening. "No!" She turned to Jaime and grabbed his breastplate again. "No! Please Jaime. Help me. Save me. I need you now as I have never needed you before. I love you. I love you. I love you."

Tears spurted from Cersei's eyes as true fear darkened them to nearly black. Her breath came out in sharp, anxious gasps. Jaime's eyes also darkened with agony and his face crumpled. He pulled Cersei's hand off his uniform but she held on with her other hand. He shook his head slowly.

"No, I can't." His voice was hoarse, near tears. "I gave you everything, every part of me and you took it. All I have left is one chance to retrieve my honor, to prove I'm a man of my word and to fight for the living. Let me have at least that, Cersei."

Cersei's moth fell open as she tried to shake him. He was too big and too strong for him to move. She shook her head frantically.

"No!" Cersei denied. "Is your honor worth more to you than me? They'll kill me, Jaime! They'll torture and kill me."

Tears fell from Jaime's eyes. "But what is one life against thousands? If there's a chance I can make a difference, leave this world better than I came into it, I must take it."

"You're listening to her babble? You're putting _her_ before me?" Cersei curled her hands into fists and began beating his face and neck. "You'll let me die for her?"

Jaime leaned back but did nothing else to defend himself. Brienne tried to rise but Ardayn and Serdun, still pressed against her, held her in place. Griff looked at her with concern, focusing on her reaction instead of the Lannisters. Brienne nodded to him sadly. She knew it wasn't her place to interfere. What could she do anyway? The decision had already been made. They'd all agreed to turn Cersei and Gregor over to Dorne in trade for a decrease in hostility. Griff becoming the new Prince of Dorne didn't alter the bargain they'd made or the Dornish lords' desire for revenge.

The Lannister guards looked anxiously between the Lannister twins and the dragons. They didn't move from their posts near the doors. The Dornishmen watch with dispassionate disinterest. The dragons wouldn't allow Brienne to go to Jaime. That left only Tyrion to hurry to his brother's aid.

"Stop!" Tyrion pleaded.

Cersei whirled from Jaime to Tyrion. She shoved the dwarf hard, sending him stumbling back. Fury sparked off her like streaks of lightning. She advanced on Tyrion and shoved him again, this time causing him to fall into his backside.

"This is all your fault!" Cersei raged. "You killed our mother. You killed our father. You sent Myrcella to Dorne, to that pit of vipers. Why couldn't you have died instead?"

She reached down for him, her hands curled into claws. Tyrion raised his arm to protect his eyes. Jaime, who'd refused to defend himself, instantly stepped in to defend his brother. He grabbed Cersei's arm and yanked her away from Tyrion. Jaime's grip pulled Cersei's body so harshly she nearly fell as he turned her to face him. Only his bruising grip on her arm kept her upright.

"No, this is your fault!" Jaime railed, equal fury crackling around him. "Your fault and my fault. Your cruelty and greed, my stupidity and arrogance. We did this. We brought about the end of our house. We thought we were so much better, smarter than everyone else. If we'd honored the vows we'd taken, none of this would have happened. I'm done making excuses for you and for myself. I was wrong and I accept it. From this moment on, I'm going to honor my vows. I'll stand with these lords and their Targaryen prince and fight for the living."

Jaime shoved Cersei away from him and went to Tyrion. The younger lion had already gotten to his feet. The Hand straightened his jacket and smoothed down his hair, nodding to reassure his brother her was well. Cersei, left alone in the middle of the hall, looked around wildly. Everyone, including lords, guards, dragons, and her brothers looked back at her dispassionately.

Griff nodded to the guards. "Take her to the black cells."

"No!" Cersei cried, her voice breaking. "No, please! Jaime! Jaime, save me!"

The Lannister guards looked from Griff to the dragons then to Cersei and finally to Jaime. They hesitated, as if unsure if they should follow Griff's orders, even if he did have dragons. Brienne understood their hesitation. They'd bent the knee to the Dragon Queen not the Prince of Dorne. Jaime had sided with the King in the North but now vowed to work with the Dornish lords. They weren't sure who to follow.

Jaime looked at Cersei then at Griff. Finally, his shoulders dropped and he faced the Lannister guards. "Take her."

Now, with both the Lord Commander and the Dragon King giving the same order, the Lannister guards surrounded Cersei, while still throwing worried glances at the dragons. The five watched calmly as the guards grabbed Cersei. Cersei fought and screamed but the dragons weren't upset by her cries and harsh emotions. The former Queen of Westeros hadn't made a good impression on them.

"No!" Cersei cried again, twisting frantically against the guards. "You can't do this. I am the Queen. Do you hear me? I'll have your heads for this. I am the Queen!"

Cersei continued to rant as she was dragged out of the Throne Room. Silence descended on the hall once she was gone. Jaime hung his head, his shoulders stiff as tears fell to the floor. Tyrion put his hand on Jaime's arm, supporting his brother through the hardest decision of his life. He'd given up his heart, the woman he'd loved even longer than he'd lived. Jaime had finally released the weight that had held him back his entire life.

But what was left of Jaime Lannister now?


	38. Confession Keeper

The Keeper

Chapter 38 – Confession Keeper

For a moment, after Cersei was dragged out of the Throne Room, silence descended on the hall. It was as if Cersei had taken the energy and sound with her. Then Ellaria, still weak after weeks locked in the black cells, slumped into the chair, as limp as a broken doll.

"Ser Balon, take Ellaria back to the maester's chambers," Griff ordered, breaking the silence.

"Yes, your Grace." Balon nodded and moved forward to join the group.

Ellaria looked up at her prince, grimaced and rose from her chair, visibly trembling. She took a step, gasped then put out her hand to Griff as her body crumpled beneath her. Balon swooped in instantly and caught her before the Dornishwoman fell to the floor. Griff, who was still holding Allwyn, shifted aside and frowned. He made no attempt to assist Ellaria as Balon gathered her up into his arms.

Brienne also frowned as she watched the scene. Why would Ellaria put out her hand to Griff? Had she deliberately reached out, perhaps expecting Griff to save her from falling? Ellaria's eyes had narrowed fractionally at the new Prince of Dorne before she'd risen. The look had been calm and calculating. How much of her weakness was real and how much were theatrics to garner support and sympathy from the Dornish lords? Ellaria truly was weak and emaciated, clear signs of the abuse she'd endured at Cersei's hands. Perhaps it was Brienne's vantage point, looking at Ellaria from over Griff's shoulder, that made her so suspicious of the other woman.

"Ser Balon, have you had relief in your duties watching over the babies?" Griff asked the courtly knight.

Balon straightened with Ellaria in his arms. "Yes, your Grace. Lord Tyrion sent guards to relieve me last night, soon after your visit with the children."

Beyond Balon, Brienne saw Tryion stiffen and turn his head to them. The Hand held Jaime's arm comfortingly. Jaime's head was down and his shoulders rose steadily with his deep breaths. He wasn't paying attention to the conversation, but Tyrion was. Brienne watched the dwarf's eyes narrow as he processed the implications. Tyrion hadn't known Griff had gone to the maester's chambers the night before. The Hand looked from Griff to Balon, then to Brienne. She fought to keep her expression blank but Tyrion was too smart to be fooled. He knew as well as she did that Griff hadn't gone to visit the children.

"Excellent." Griff nodded. "You may return to your duties."

Balon, tall, broad and strong, bowed even with Ellaria's slight weight in his arms. The lords were all silent, watching the knight until he left the hall. Anders turned back to face Griff once the doors shut behind Balon.

"Your Grace –" he began.

Griff put up his hand and nodded past Anders. The older man turned to see Tyrion and Jaime still in the room. Jaime's shoulders squared and his posture straightened, indicating he had made peace with his choices. He looked up, his face red with fresh bruises where Cersei had hit him, but with resolute acceptance firming his features. Jaime swiped his hand over his cheeks then stood tall and calm. He faced Griff with clear eyes and determination in his features.

The new Prince of Dorne wasn't looking at the Lord Commander. Instead, Griff was focused on Tyrion. The Hand's expression was calm and steady as he regarded the gathered lords and their prince. Finally, the Hand met the Prince of Dorne's equally calm and steady gaze. Griff was no fool, either. He knew Tyrion had heard what Balon had so innocently revealed and understood its significance.

"Lord Tyrion, I believe you have ravens to send out," Griff reminded him. "Inform my aunt and Jon Snow that the new Prince of Dorne has agreed to decrease hostilities. In exchange, Gregor Clegane and Cersei Lannister will be handed over to Dorne for trial and punishment."

Tyrion nodded. "Queen Daenerys was already agreeable to sending Ser Gregor and my sister to Sunspear. The queen is eager to have Dorne as an ally."

"We have _not_ agreed to ally, imp," Manfrey growled.

The aging castellan leaned forward aggressively. Tyrion held himself straight but the dwarf was no match for the Dornish lord. Jaime threw off his brother's arm as he moved to protect him while Griff shifted to intercept the castellan. Manfrey looked at Griff, Allwyn still in his arms, and stilled. Griff looked back at him calmly until Manfrey straightened.

"Ser Manfrey, I understand your anger more than most," Griff said quietly. "Tywin Lannister brought bloodshed and grief to most of Westeros. The harm he's done can never be undone or forgotten. Dorne will be given some recompense for the loss of my family. But that's in the past. We cannot regain what we've lost, nor can we allow ourselves to throw away the future. We all face the same enemy. Tywin Lannister's sons are on the same side we are, the side of the living."

Manfrey's face flushed red and he glared hard at Tyrion. The Hand raised his chin and met the angry castellan's gaze. Jaime shifted back so he was behind Tyrion, close enough to protect his brother but allowing Tyrion to lead. The rest of the lords and the dragons watched them quietly. Finally, Manfrey nodded and turned to Griff.

"Yes, your Grace," Manfrey agreed and moved to rejoin the other lords.

Griff turned back to Tyrion. "Lord Tyrion, I'll speak with the lords to determine our next step. I'm aware of the threat rising in the North. We'll discuss the matter and have an update for you shortly."

The dismissal was clear in Griff's voice. The Hand to Queen Daenerys wasn't welcome in those discussions. Tyrion looked from Griff to the lords then back to the new Prince of Dorne. The Hand nodded.

"Very well," Tyrion agreed.

Tyrion turned away from Griff and nodded to Jaime. The two turned for the doors. Tyrion bent down for Cersei's crown, forgotten and forlorn on the floor. The Hand picked up the crown that had been the symbol of his sister's brutal rule. He turned and held the circlet up for Griff to see.

"What should I do with this?" Tyrion asked quietly.

"Whatever you wish, Lord Hand." Griff frowned at the circle of gold. "I don't want it and I can't think of anyone who would."

"Give it back to your sister," Anders suggested savagely. "Perhaps it will give her comfort while we thrash the flesh from her bones."

Jaime shuddered at Anders vicious threat but said nothing. Tyrion looked sadly down at the crown. He tucked it behind his back, as if not seeing it would erase the evil his sister had done. He nodded politely to the lords and Griff. The lords remained silent until the Lannisters left the hall. Then they turned to Griff.

"I won't ally with Lannisters," Manfrey insisted. "They have caused too much harm to Dorne."

The castellan took an aggressive step closer to Griff. Catren and Gallan, who'd been leaning against Griff's legs, instantly straightened. Allwyn, wrapped possessively around Griff, turned its head to the castellan and hissed in warning. Manfrey froze, his eyes widening. Beside Brienne, Ardayn and Serdun also returned to their guard duty, moving from beside Brienne to in front of her. Brienne stared at the castellan of Sunspear. How did people forget the dragons? They knew the five wouldn't allow any aggressive actions against those they loved. The dragons protected their family above all things.

"You would rather ally with the Army of the Dead, Ser Manfrey?" Griff questioned coolly as he knelt to release Allwyn.

The blue-grey dragon cried out theatrically as Griff unwound its tail from around his waist. He whispered something to the dragon that made Allwyn finally turn and face front, taking its usual place, right and behind Catren.

"What can our men do that four armies and two dragons cannot?" Ned asked quietly, watching Griff move closer to Brienne, allowing the dragons to reform their defensive line.

The five formed a straight line in front of Griff. Brienne stood at his left, a few paces behind her king. The dragons were calm, watching the lords with cool reptilian eyes, clearly aware the lords understood how dangerous they truly were.

"The current plan is to take my aunt's armies north to man the empty Night's Watch castles," Griff explained. "That will put them as the first line of defense if the Army of the Dead breach the Wall. The Northern armies will gather near Winterfell, as the second line of defense. Jon Snow should put the Southern armies south of the Neck, near the Twins and Seaguard to secure fallback positions."

A cold shiver slid down Brienne's spine. Seaguard. Her mother's family, the home of the eagles who had sheltered a secret bastard dragon. Seaguard had also raised Qyburn, an eagle so deadly he'd destroyed the Lannister dynasty. Did House Mallister hold more secrets, perhaps even clues to fighting the menace they faced?

"Jon Snow isn't a good battle commander," Andres countered. "Does he even know how to set up multiple fallback positions?"

Griff wasn't listening to Anders. He'd turned to Brienne when she'd shivered visibly. The Prince of Dorne frowned and raised his eyebrows in silent question. Brienne straightened her spine and shook her head. There was no need to interrupt their conversation with her personal concerns. It was far more important to create a sound battle plan to fight the Army of the Dead.

"Brienne," Griff said smoothly. "Our conversation will take some time. There's no reason for you to stay with us as we discuss this."

Brienne stared at her king, fighting to keep the shock and dismay out of her expression. Was he dismissing her? Griff had never asked her to leave a meeting before. Why would he do so now?

"Your Grace, I'm sworn to you," she protested. "My place is at your side, always."

"Yes, it is." Griff's cool expression warmed as he smiled at her. "And it always will be. But I'm not your only responsibility. The dragons need you even more. What news do we have on _Dragonbinder_?"

Brienne gasped. How could she have forgotten? Her first duty was and would always be to the Gods and the dragons they'd entrusted to her. She'd been so focused on her king, she'd forgotten the threat to the dragons. The horn that could enslave dragons was still out in the world, a terrible threat to the dragons and they safety. They hadn't heard it sound after the Dornish lords arrived, so it was unlikely they had the horn. If they did have it, they would be fools to use it now and divide their ranks. Griff was already giving them the revenge against the Lannisters they craved. Why would they risk the fury of their new prince by threatening his dragons?

"I'll check with Podrick, Sandor and Ser Bronn now," Brienne agreed. "They've been out since morning. Perhaps they've picked up some whispers."

Griff nodded. "Good. Even whispers can lead to the truth."

She nodded in return and strode forward, going beyond the dragons' protective line. Serdun and Ardayn left their positions to follow her. The lords immediately moved aside, taking care to keep far away from the dragons.

"Brienne, wait!" Griff called.

She stopped and turned back smartly, the skirt of her dress twirling with her. Ardayn and Serdun obediently stopped with her, landing at her side. Griff strode over to them, with Catren, Allwyn and Gallan at his back. Though the lords kept they distance, they watched carefully.

"Take these three with you." Griff nodded to Catren, Allwyn and Gallan. "They're always at the forefront. Catren is a born leader, Allwyn a born actor and Gallan a natural explorer. Ardayn and Serdun are disciplined and solemn. I have to remind myself they need my attention, too."

"I know." Brienne knelt and hugged her most ardent guards. "Sometimes, when they're sleeping, I sit between them and just hold them during the night."

Griff also knelt to pull the Serdun and Ardayn to his side. "I used to do that, too."

The two went to him, alert and calm, aware of their duty, as was their nature. Catren, Allwyn and Gallan were equally obedient as they shifted to hover beside Brienne. She smiled with pride at their sharp, disciplined performance. Griff also grinned at them as he rose.

Behind him, the lords shifted. They looked at each other, while some even whispered between themselves, calculation and consideration glittering in their eyes. Brienne quickly wiped away her soft smile and firmed her expression as she looked at them. She straightened and brushed out her skirt. What was wrong with her? First, she'd forgotten about the threat of _Dragonbinder_, now she'd forgotten their every move was observed by Griff's new subjects. She didn't even want to consider what they thought of her, the mannish woman who strove to be a knight instead of a lady.

"I'll report back when I have more information, your Grace." She deliberately raised her voice and addressed him formally, as a knight should.

Griff, his back to the lords, didn't feel the need to respond in kind. His grin crinkled the edges of his eyes and he had the nerve to wink at her as he nodded. She kept her expression as blank as she could as she strode out of the hall, Catren, Allwyn and Gallan flying above her head.

Outside the doors, the Lannister guards immediately put their hands behind their backs, staring straight ahead. They held their positions but Brienne could see them sneaking glances at the dragons from the corners of their eyes. The dragons ignored them, their attention on Podrick, who stood at the far end of the hall, deep in conversation with Tyrion. Catren and Allwyn stayed with Brienne while Gallan flew down the hall to her squire.

Podrick braced himself as the blue dragon draped itself across his shoulders. He grunted but held Gallan's weight with practiced ease. The guards along the hall shuddered, even while pretending not to watch the dragons. Brienne hurried to join them, with Catren and Allwyn guarding her from above.

Tyrion looked from Gallan to Podrick then back to the dragon. "Sometimes I envy your easy relationship with the dragons, Pod, but this is not one of those times."

"They're making me stronger, Lord Hand," Podrick insisted. "I can run faster and carry more weight now than I could before."

Tyrion continued to eye the dragon. "That maybe fine for now but, one day, they'll be the size of Drogon. Will you still want them draped across your shoulders then?"

Podrick's eyes bulged out of his head. "Drogon?" He turned to greet Brienne. "My Lady Ser, I can't hold that much weight!"

"Not to worry Podrick," Brienne reassured him. "King Aegon and I will continue their training. I'm sure they'll grow out of landing on your shoulders once they're a little bigger." She looked at the blue dragon. "Gallan, sōvegon."

Gallan squawked but obediently rose from Podrick's shoulders. It landed on the floor between Podrick and Brienne, prompting the other dragons to land, too. Catren came down on Brienne's other side, between her and Tyrion while Allwyn settled next to Gallan, leaning against Podrick. The squire rubbed Allwyn's neck while Tyrion smiled at Catren.

"_Lord Hand, I notice you have no fear of the dragons." Ned looked from Tyrion to Serdun, close enough for the Hand to touch, then back again. "Nor do the dragons have anger towards you. How is it that you, a Lannister, can walk among them?"_

Brienne recalled Ned's question to Tyrion in the Throne Room. The dragons didn't have anger towards Tyrion because they judged him as the man he was today, not by the sins of his father or the mistakes of his family. Jon Snow also had the rare gift of judging men as they were now without the bias of their past actions. It was that ability that had allowed him to build collations of warring factions, to bring Wildlings into the North and gave men the confidence that his word was his bond.

Griff needed to learn that skill, too. Like Jon, Griff had the delicate task of bringing warring men together. The Dornish had many reasons to hate the Lannisters and the southland families who had supported them. But now they faced an enemy that threatened them all equally. And not just the threat of the Army of the Dead, they also faced threats from the living. Even now, men were fighting for greater power. Someone had _Dragonbinder_ and posed a threat to the dragons that could destroy the world as effectively as the Night King.

"Podrick, have you heard anything about the horn?" Brienne asked.

Podrick shook his head regretfully. "No, my Lady Ser. The people in the markets know who I am now. They're afraid to talk to me."

Brienne grimaced. It had been her frantic rush to find Podrick that had alerted the people to his status as her squire. They knew the dragons would defend Podrick as they did Brienne or their new king. Too many years living under brutal rulers had left the people afraid. They didn't want to bring attention to themselves.

"There's something I'd like to speak to you about, Lady Ser Brienne," Tyrion said quietly.

It was his serious tone that alerted Brienne to the grim nature of his subject. Tyrion's eyes were dark and his mouth pulled down at the corners. There was no love lost between the Hand and his sister but Tyrion had loved his niece and nephew and still loved Jaime. No matter how cruel and harsh Tywin had been, his grandchildren had been innocent of their family's crimes.

Brienne stiffened. "Is this about Ellaria Sand, Lord Tyrion?"

Tyrion nodded, his expression grave.

"I know you're disappointed by the judgment to grant a reprieve to her. I have no influence over the lords' decision." Brienne gave Tyrion a steady look. "I won't go against my king, Lord Hand. You cannot ask that of me."

"I'm not asking that," Tyrion insisted. "I just want to ask you to consider one question."

Brienne looked from Tyrion to Podrick. Both had matching intense, serious expressions. Judging by her squire's troubled frown, Tyrion had already posed his question to Podrick. The squire bent down, making a show of stroking the dragons while Brienne faced Tyrion again.

"What is your question, Lord Hand?" Brienne prompted.

Tyrion hesitated. He appeared to be reluctant to speak but finally sighed. "Who gained the most by Doran and Trystane's deaths?"

For a moment, Brienne didn't understand. She stared at Tyrion's serious, solemn expression. What was he implying?

Tyrion's eyes narrowed and he continued. "Who is now the Prince of Dorne, only because of the deaths of the previous prince and his heir?"

And then she understood. Tyrion was insinuating that Griff had plotted the murders of his uncle and his cousin. Heat flushed through Brienne's body, so sudden and intense, her cheeks felt like they were on fire. She curled her hands into fists to control her reaction. The dragons, picking up on her rage, hissed and sniffed the air, trying to find the source of her spiked emotions. Podrick's eyes widened and he leaned away, as if the increased space would insulate him from Brienne's anger.

"Ask yourself a different question, Lord Hand," Brienne responded swiftly, fighting to keep her voice even. "Who hated your father enough to kill everyone in their path for revenge against him and your family?"

Tyrion paled. They both knew the list of people who wanted to kill Tywin was long, with Tyrion himself at the top. But Tyrion would never have harmed Tommen or Myrcella, Jaime's children. They, like Griff's mother and sister, had been innocent victims of the savage cruelty of others.

Not waiting for his reply, Brienne turned on her heel and marched down the hall. The dragons and Podrick rushed after her. After a few minutes of rapid marching, Podrick, who gasped from the effort of keeping pace with her, finally spoke.

"My Lady Ser, where are we going?" he asked.

Brienne came to such an abrupt stop that Podrick ran into her back. The dragons circled over their heads, equally confused by her actions. She turned to face her squire.

"I'm sorry," Podrick apologized. "I didn't know you were stopping."

Brienne released her breath on a heavy sigh. "I didn't mean to stop so suddenly and I don't know where I'm going. I just needed to get away from Lord Tyrion. I need to get away from here." She looked around, noting the guards and busy servants who carefully ignored them. "I wish there was somewhere we could go where we can talk privately."

Griff was right. There were always people listening. Servants who darted into side halls and open doors when they passed, guards stationed along hallways, tradespeople busily completing their tasks, nobles and sycophants eager to curry favor with those in power and spies whose sole purpose was to observe and gather information.

"There is, my Lady Ser. The godswood," Podrick suggested. "It's quiet and private. The dragons would keep everyone away and alert us if anyone approached."

Brienne stared blankly at her squire for a moment. He was right. The Red Keep's walls had ears with servants, guards, and little birds trying to listen to every word. But the godswood was a place of quiet reflection, without walls to hide behind, where the dragons could easily guard their privacy. Podrick watched her expectantly, his expression falling when she remained silent.

"Perhaps that wasn't a good idea," Podrick said quietly.

A second later he gasped as Brienne swept him into her arms, hugging him tightly. She released him as suddenly as she'd held him. Euphoria rushed through her veins at the chance to escape the observing eyes and straining ears, if only for a short time.

"No, it's a great idea," she agreed. "I was just annoyed with myself for not thinking of it. Come Podrick, let's go to the godswood."

She turned away, missing Podrick's surprised and pleased expression. He and the dragons rushed after her. The hallways quickly emptied before them as they, with the dragons overhead, hurried out of the castle and into the gardens. A moment later, they entered the wooded sanctuary. As Podrick predicted, the few people in the grove hurriedly left when they saw them coming. The dragons, intoxicated by the fresh air and the smell of seawater and fish, cried happily, swooping through the sky. Even so, Brienne noted one of them was with them at all times, keeping watch to protect their family.

Podrick settled on a bench and looked up at her expectantly. "Is this about what Lord Tyrion said, my Lady Ser?"

Brienne nodded. She proceeded to tell him of her eventful afternoon, from visiting with Ela and the babies in the maesters chambers to meeting with the lords in the Throne Room, Cersei's sentence to be sent to Dorne and Ellaria's theatrics. The words tumbled out of her mouth as she marched back and forth in front of her squire. Podrick listened quietly, without interruption, until she finished her story.

"King Aegon is moving quickly, isn't he?" Podrick remarked. "He's already consolidating his power in Dorne after the death of the ruling prince."

"Podrick, you don't believe the king had anything to do with Doran or Trystane's deaths, do you?" Brienne asked, continuing to pace in front of her squire.

"No, I don't," Podrick responded instantly. "Lord Tyrion is upset because King Aegon's right to rule is greater than Queen Daenerys's. I know the king had nothing to do with the murders of his kin."

Brienne halted and stared at him. "You do? How are you so sure?"

Relief rushed through her at her squire's loyal assurance. She knew Griff wasn't a cold-blooded killer. She knew because she'd lived with Griff, seen his actions and had been protected by him for months while hiding the baby dragons at sea. Podrick had only been with Griff for a few days before returning to Tarth. What allowed her squire to have such faith in her king?

Podrick shrugged. "The king was in Essos with you and the dragons when Doran and Trystane were murdered. You said he'd already made arrangements to take the dragons to Valyria while you returned to Tarth. Why would he do so if he'd put plans into place to take over Dorne? He wouldn't risk leaving the region without a ruling prince for all that time."

Brienne nodded. "Yes, he started building a _Golden Company_ base for us in Valyria to keep the dragons safe. After the pirate fight and with their rapid growth, it was too risky to keep them on a wooden ship. His plan was to visit Meereen, not Westeros. I talked him out of a meeting with Daenerys. I knew she would see him as a rival, not an ally. The king's first priority has always been to protect me and the dragons. He would never have endangered them by bringing them to Westeros while they were so young, not even for the opportunity to take over Dorne."

Podrick nodded. "Plus, King Aegon needed to be chosen by _Dawn_ before the lords accepted him as Aegon Martell Targaryen. What would he gain by a conspiracy to kill the princes if there was a chance King Aegon couldn't prove his blood ties to Dorne?"

Brienne gasped as she stared at her squire. _Dawn_. A shock passed through her body, as it had the first time she'd touched _Lightning_. That was the key to this puzzle, the lynchpin that held all the pieces together. Everything centered around the magical sword. It wasn't the Dornish lords, the land or even the Prince of Dorne that mattered. It was the _sword_.

"You're right, Podrick." Brienne's breath quickened as the pieces of the puzzle fell into place for her. "The conspiracy to murder Myrcella, Doran and Trystane was set up while we were still in Essos. Lord Tyrion asked the wrong question. He asked who gained the most by Doran and Trystane's deaths. He should have asked who _stood_ to gain the most by their deaths."

Podrick frowned as he considered. Finally, he shook his head. "But doesn't that mean the same thing, my Lady Ser?"

"No, it doesn't." Brienne returned to pacing as the thoughts connected in her mind. "The person who gained the most is King Aegon. He's now the Prince of Dorne and holds the loyalty of the most powerful, intact region in Westeros. But who stood to gain the most if the king hadn't come to Westeros? Who would have become the next Prince of Dorne even without _Dawn_ to prove his blood claim?"

"Manfrey Martell," Griff answered from over her shoulder.

Brienne gasped and whirled around, startled to hear his voice. The King of Westeros and new Prince of Dorne stood only a few meters away, studying her calmly. Ardayn and Serdun were at his side, looking around with interest but firm in their duty. Griff looked down at the devoted guards.

"Ardayn, Serdun, sōvegon," he urged.

The two looked at Griff then up at the other dragons. Catren and Allwyn squawked and came back to them. Ardayn and Serdun waited for them to land before taking to the sky in a well-deserved break. Brienne's gaze followed the dragons as they soared upwards then went to the people watching them from the castle. The people weren't a threat. She, Podrick and Griff were out in the open, easily seen but protected by the dragons. No one would get close enough to hear them. She turned back to her king and his new revelation.

"How did you know?" she demanded. "How did you know Manfrey Martell masterminded the conspiracy to murder the ruling prince and his heir to take over Dorne?"

Griff went past her to join Podrick on the bench. Immediately, Catren flew into his lap. Allwyn squawked indignantly but settled comfortably into Podrick's waiting arms nevertheless. Both dragons preened and burrowed into the warmth of their holders. Brienne refused to be distracted by their antics and focused on Griff.

"When did you figure out Manfrey was behind this?" she pressed.

Griff also looked around, noting the people watching from the distance. He knew, as she did, that no one would dare approach them. The dragons would sense them before they came into hearing distance. No one would risk death by dragonfire or open disloyalty to the dragons. Griff finally looked back at her.

"I put it all together a few weeks back, when I first arrived in Dorne," Griff admitted. "Manfrey was about to claim the throne when I appeared. I found out he and Daeron Vaith are the lords behind the march. Manfrey wanted to storm Highgarden and lay siege to King's Landing for revenge against Tywin Lannister's family and allies. He, like Ellaria, was furious Doran refused to avenge Oberyn and my mother and sister's deaths. Doran had seen what war did to men and their families. He wanted no part of it, not even for revenge."

"How do you know Manfrey and Daeron lead the march, your Grace?" Podrick asked.

"We'd learned months ago that Dorne was importing sellswords to augment their armies. The call had gone out into the free cities," Griff explained. "I sent _Golden Company_ spies join their ranks. It didn't take long to determine which lords wanted war and which ones didn't. The only part I didn't understand, at that time, was Ellaria's role. Why was she treating with Daenerys if she didn't have the authority to speak for Dorne?"

"She didn't?" Podrick looked from Griff to Brienne then back to Griff. "Then why did Daenerys accept her if Ellaria wasn't in a position to provide assistance to her?"

"She was in a position to provide assistance, Podrick," Brienne corrected him. "Euron Greyjoy knew which ship to attack to find Ellaria and the Sand Snakes when the _Iron Fleet_ attacked the Targaryen armada. That means some of the ships had Dornish markings."

"Which meant someone with the authority to provide Dornish ships and aid was working with Ellaria," Griff added.

"Ellaria was Manfrey's shield," Brienne explained. "She was close enough to power to be given assistance as needed but also distant enough for Manfrey to deny if she were caught."

"Which is what happened." Podrick nodded, trying to follow their explanation. "Euron killed two Sand Snakes and gave Ellaria and Tyene to Cersei. Manfrey denied knowing Ellaria's plans. He was even one of her primary accusers to throw off suspicion from himself."

"Correct," Griff agreed. "But he revealed himself when Qyburn sent ravens that carried Ellaria's secret mark. Scrolls were sent to every major house in Dorne and only one man knew the mark. My spies intercepted the messages going back to King's Landing. Manfrey was so eager to have an agent in Cersei's court that he replied immediately. That's when I knew he and Ellaria had conspired to remove Doran and Trystane."

"Did you confront him?" Podrick demanded.

"Not directly," Griff admitted. "I need Manfrey to hold the loyalty of House Nymeros Martell, at least for now. Instead of confronting him directly, I offered him what he truly wanted. Manfrey didn't want war, he wanted revenge. Just by looking at me, he knew I was Rhaegar's son. I'm the bridge between Dorne and Dragonstone, the Dornish King of the Seven Kingdoms. I could give him the revenge he wanted without the bloodshed he didn't. I agreed to turn over Cersei and free Ellaria if he agreed to bring Ned Dayne and _Dawn_ to King's Landing."

Brienne stopped pacing. "Why did you agree to free Ellaria? She murdered Jaime's daughter."

Griff stood up and put Catren down on the bench. The brown dragon yelped in protest but slid closer to Podrick. Obediently, Podrick put his arm around Catren and hugged it close to his side. Even so, his attention was clearly on Brienne and Griff, looking between them with wide eyes.

"Brienne, we don't always get to choose our allies from only honorable men." Griff rubbed his hands along her arms in a comforting gesture. "For every Jon Snow or Ned Dayne, there are a hundred Daeron Vaiths and Manfrey Martells. Men who make poor decisions and compromises to reach their goals. Just as Jon Snow accepted the Wildlings who killed his Night's Watch brothers, I accepted the Dornish lords."

"The Wildlings were fighting for their lives. Manfrey Martell stood by as Ellaria and the Sand Snakes _murdered_ Doran and Trystane, your kin." Brienne gasped. "Not only did he stand by, he knew what Ellaria and Oberyn's daughters were plotting and _allowed_ it. Yet you accept this man, who knew all, and did nothing to protect your uncle and cousin, your blood. How can you do this?"

Brienne shrugged off his hands and stepped back. Griff reached for her again but she stayed out of his reach. His face tightened with hurt but he dropped his hands to his sides. Podrick, Catren and Allwyn were silent and still as their gazes darted from one to the other, watching without interrupting.

"Because I gain more from having him as my ally than as an enemy," Griff responded quietly. "I didn't know Doran and Trystane nor could I have done anything to stop their deaths. Manfrey is a powerful and important figure in Dorne. While I don't like what he did, and he didn't intend it, his actions helped me. It's because of what he allowed to happen that I'm now the Prince of Dorne."

The blood drained from Brienne's head so quickly she felt light-headed. This time, when Griff reached out for her, she let him take her arms. She needed him to steady her. Serdun, Ardayn and Gallan squawked overhead, aware of her distress, and dove to her side. Podrick, hemmed in by Allwyn and Catren, watched her with wide eyes. Brienne took a deep breath and looked her king directly in the eyes.

"Ser Manfrey allowed the murders of your kin and you accept him because his inaction benefited you," she repeated quietly. "Yet you condemn the Lannisters for similar and even lesser crimes."

"What?" Griff blinked and released her, his eyes widening in shock.

Ardayn, Serdun and Gallan landed beside Podrick, joining Catren and Allwyn on the bench. All six watched Brienne and Griff's exchange with silent, worried eyes. The dragons shifted closer to Podrick and to each other, unaccustomed to the intense, upsetting emotions between Griff and Brienne.

"Do you understand why Westeros needs you so much?" Brienne demanded.

Griff jerked back. "What does that have to do with Lannisters?"

"Answer my question," Brienne pressed insistently.

Griff stared at her for a moment, color flushing into his face. Brienne knew no one should talk to a king as she was talking to Griff. But she wasn't just his subject. She was sworn to him. _A good king allowed those he trusted to offer advice and knew when to temper his own actions. Those who protected the king might have occasions to protect the king from himself. _

Griff's indigo eyes flashed but he took a deep breath to calm himself. "It's because I'm the first true Dornish king. I'll break the impasse between Dorne and the rest of the regions. I can truly bring the armies of men together."

Brienne shook her head. He didn't understand. Griff still thought he was here to serve the people. Normally, that was a good king's duty but these weren't normal times. He, like she, was here to serve the _Gods_. They wouldn't have been gifted with their most powerful weapons, the dragons and _Dawn_, if they weren't being guided by the Gods themselves.

"Griff, how many rulers has Westeros seen since Aerys's death?" Brienne deliberately used his private nickname, the one for the man she knew and not the formal name of the King of the Seven Kingdoms.

Griff blinked. His eyes softened at the name change. He looked at Podrick and the dragons. Her squire's brow wrinkled in confusion as he looked from Griff back to her. The dragons all pressed closer to Podrick as they also looked between Brienne and Griff. Brienne continued to regard her king, waiting for his reply.

"Robert, Joffrey, Tommen, Cersei and Daenerys," Griff answered. "Soon it will be me. Why?"

Brienne shook her head slowly. "No, it's more than that."

"She's right, your Grace," Podrick injected quietly. "The Iron Islands had two kings and now a queen while the North had two kings of their own, not to mention Stannis and Renly Baratheon."

A familiar ache, dulled by the passage of time, twisted in Brienne's heart at the mention of her former king. Dark magic had taken him, a magic she'd been powerless to fight. Back then, she'd been too innocent to understand how truly dark some people's hearts were. She'd faced insults and slurs but not the kind of cruelty that tore lives and families apart. Now she had a family of her own to protect and even more terrors to face. But she knew the Gods would guide her, just as they were guiding her now.

"Kings and queens are easily replaced," Brienne pointed out. "As are princes. Even as we speak, Westeros has two kings, two queens and a dozen people ready to take their place. Manfrey would probably kill you himself, if you didn't have dragons, to become the next Prince of Dorne."

Griff shifted closer to her, his stance hard and aggressive. "What are you saying, Brienne?"

The dragons growled but didn't attempt to come to them. They looked from Brienne to Griff and back, unable to understand the harsh emotions between the two people who normally protected them in times of emotional distress. Podrick stretched out his arms, trying to pull the dragons even closer to himself.

"You said you trusted me and believe the Gods are guiding us." Brienne fought to keep her voice calm.

Griff nodded. "I do."

Brienne nodded in return. "Then you know everything you endured was necessary to bring you to this moment and what makes you so special, so important, to Westeros. It isn't that you're the king or the prince. Westeros has had a hundred kings and will have a hundred more. That's not why you're here."

"No?" Griff frowned and stepped close enough that his breath feathered her cheeks. "Then why am I here?"

"We're facing a threat greater than any we've ever known. One so great that even the Gods have joined with us to fight it. Westeros doesn't need another ruler. It needs a champion." She paused and glanced down at _Dawn_ on Griff's belt. Then she met his gaze squarely with her own. "I can easily name half a dozen rulers, all within my lifetime. But how many _Swords of the Morning_ can you recall?"

Griff's eyes widened as he began to understand. His gaze shifted from Brienne to Ardayn, the dragon named after Ser Arthur Dayne, the most famous _Sword of the Morning_ in history. It had been named to honor the famed knight but now Brienne realized the dragon, as were all things the Gods gave her, was an important clue to the battle against the Army of the Dead.

Griff's eyes were dark indigo when he looked back at her. "Only one," he admitted. "Ser Arthur Dayne."

"Even Lord Ned can only name three," Brienne continued. "Not three warriors in his lifetime or three in the last hundred years, but three in all of the history of House Dayne. His family has gone generations without a _Sword of the Morning. _ Now they've had two in a single lifetime. Why is that?"

Griff drew in his breath. "Because we need _Dawn_ to fight the Army of the Dead."

"Yes," Brienne agreed. "Westeros needs the greatest sword in the world, wielded by the fastest swordsman in the world. You are the _Sword of the Morning_, the sword that will protect the realms of men. You wouldn't have become who you were destined to be without men like Ser Manfrey, Ser Jaime and Lord Tywin Lannister."

Griff jerked back. "Tywin Lannister has done _nothing_ for me."

"Yes, he has," Brienne corrected harshly. "His methods were brutal but they were effective. If he hadn't sent Gregor Clegane to murder your family, you wouldn't have been smuggled out of King's Landing. You would have been raised in the capital or Dragonstone or Sunspear, known as the son of Rhaegar Targaryen and Elia Martell. You wouldn't need to prove who you were. Would you even have thought to try to claim _Dawn _if you didn't need to prove you were the son of the sun?"

"No." Griff stared at her, his face draining of color. "I would have interpreted the prophecy as others did. I'd have assumed it meant 'dawn' as daybreak."

Brienne nodded. "Thus, the world wouldn't have the weapon or the warrior it needs to defend it against the Army of the Dead. Tywin orders were brutal and cruel but they were necessary. The Gods did what had to be done to create a weapon powerful enough to fight for the living. As Ser Jaime said, what is one life, even two lives, against thousands? He decided, if there was a chance he could make a difference, leave this world better than he came into it, he would take it. You must do the same."

"Ser Jaime," Griff snarled, his face flushed with renewed rage. "You care far too much for that dishonorable, fallen excuse for a knight."

"Ser Jaime made his mistakes to protect his family, for a reason he thought valid," Brienne insisted. "You judge him unfairly."

"Unfairly?" Griff repeated. "He was a knight, a Kingsguard. Rhaegar's last order to him was to protect my mother and sister. Ser Jaime failed miserably."

"You hate Ser Jaime for allowing your mother and sister's deaths, even though he didn't know Gregor would hurt them. Yet you accept Ser Manfrey after he allowed your uncle and cousin's deaths, even though he _knowingly_ allowed Ellaria and the Sand Snakes to kill them." Brienne pointed out. "Why? You benefited equally from both men's inactions."

Griff shook his head. "That's not true. I didn't benefit from my mother and sister's deaths. I lost because I lost them."

"But what would have happened if Ser Jaime had tried to defend them from Gregor?" Brienne demanded. "What if Ser Jaime had died fighting the Mountain? Then I would never have met him, never had gone to Essos, never found the dragons and would never have met you. Would that have benefited you?"

"Not meeting you?" Griff's eyes widened. "Of course not. That would be a life-altering loss for me."

"What if Ser Jaime had successfully protected your mother and sister?" Brienne persisted. "What would have happened to them?"

"If Rhaegar was still defeated at the Trident, then they would have gone to Dorne for sanctuary," Griff guessed. "My uncles would have protected us without question."

"Yes, they would," Brienne agreed, "but what would that do to your claim?"

Griff frowned. "Robert would still become King of Westeros."

"While you would have become like your Uncle Oberyn," Brienne guessed.

"Oberyn?" Griff repeated. "Why?"

"Oberyn was a fierce fighter, intelligent, handsome and hot-tempered, just like you," Brienne pointed out. "He was also so far from the line of succession that he didn't need to worry about ruling the region or having legitimate heirs. You, like him, would have been raised a prince but a prince without power or expectations of ruling."

Griff's frown deepened.

"If your mother and sister had lived, they would also have stood between you and the throne of Dorne," Brienne continued. "Dorne allows women to inherit and the Dornish have had powerful Princesses of Dorne in their history. Doran's heir was Trystane but, if she had lived, your mother would have become the next ruler of Dorne upon their deaths."

Podrick gasped softly, understanding what Brienne was saying. She didn't look at her squire, too focused on watching Griff's reaction. Her words were getting through to her king, judging by his rapidly paling face.

"If Elia became the ruling Princess of Dorne then your older sister, Rhaenys Martell Targaryen, would have become her heir, not you," Brienne went on. "The only reason you are the Prince of Dorne, that you even thought to claim _Dawn_, is because of the deaths of your uncle, your cousin, your mother and your sister. I ask you again, how can you accept Ser Manfrey's actions but not Ser Jaime's?"

For a moment Griff was silent. He looked at Podrick and the dragons, sitting quiet and still, trying not to draw attention to themselves. Then Griff took a deep breath and met Brienne's gaze.

"You know my hatred of the Kingslayer isn't just because of what happened to my mother and sister," Griff admitted. "I can't even look at him without wanting to put a dagger in his gut."

"But why?" Brienne cried. "He didn't know what Ser Gregor would do and regrets his inaction every day of his life. Ser Manfrey has only been rewarded for his treason. Why do you hate Ser Jaime and not Ser Manfrey?"

Griff pressed his lips together and turned away from her. He looked over at the dragons and Podrick watching them with silent, wide eyes. Finally, he turned back to Brienne, his jaw tight as he stared at her. She remained quiet, waiting for him to speak. If he had a legitimate reason to hate Jaime, she wanted to know it. Griff regarded her for another minute, his shoulders rising and falling with his deep breaths.

"Because you don't talk about Manfrey the way you talk about the Kingslayer," Griff snarled. "You don't look at Manfrey with those soft, sad eyes and you don't instinctively reach for him every time his feelings are hurt. You only do those things for the Kingslayer."

"Ser Jaime saved my life," Brienne reminded him. "I wouldn't be here to serve you, to serve the Gods or keep the dragons, if Ser Jaime hadn't jumped into that bear pit. He risked his own life, while still weak and sick from his infected, severed wrist, to keep me alive. How can I not care about a man who put my life before his own?"

"I've done the same and more," Griff burst out harshly. "I jumped onto a burning ship to fight for you, I took you to Tyrosh and out to sea without question, I protected you and the dragons, I even opened a new base halfway around the world to keep you safe!"

"This isn't a contest," Brienne protested. "You're not in competition with Ser Jaime."

"I feel like I am," Griff admitted harshly. "No matter what you learn about him, what atrocities he's done, you refuse to see the weaknesses in him."

"Refuse?" she repeated. "When have I refused? I know who Ser Jaime is and I know what his weaknesses are. I know he lays with his own sister. I know he plotted with her to put their bastard son on the Iron Throne. I know he broke his Kingsguard oaths and I know he turned a blind eye to all the horrors inflicted by his family. I see his weaknesses clearly but I can never judge him. I'm still alive because of him."

"What about me?" Griff demanded. "He gets adoring looks and worried concern while I get criticism. You don't hesitate a second to point out my weaknesses."

"You're my king!" she cried. "It's my duty to make you as strong and as just as I can, to advise you when I see you failing the people. I want you to be the prince you promised me you'd be. Do you remember what happened that night after the pirate attack? I gave myself to you. I swore myself into your service. Yes, you saved me and the dragons so I gave you my life in return. Isn't that of equal value? What more must I do to prove my loyalty is to you?"

For a moment there was only silence as Brienne and Griff stared at each other, both shocked by their own and each other's words. The dragons shifted closer to Podrick as he stretched out his arms, trying to comfort them all. The five weren't used to witnessing such a harsh exchange between their parents. Allwyn, the most sensitive of the five, cried softly as it dug deeper into Podrick's lap.

It was that soft cry that finally broke through the red mist of fury blinding Brienne's sight. Were they really fighting over who cared more about the other? Griff's hatred of Jaime wasn't really hatred but jealousy? Aegon the Sixth, the powerful, beautiful King of the Seven Kingdoms and Prince of Dorne, was jealous of her feelings for a broken, dishonored knight?

Brienne's anger drained as quickly as it had risen. She reached for Griff. It was a gesture he often used on her, touching her face to gain and hold her attention. She took it a step further, cupping his face in her both hands.

"I vowed to shield your back, keep your counsel and give my life for yours, if need be," she reminded him in a gentler voice. "You are my king. Where you lead, I will follow. Nothing and no one will change that."

Griff's fury drained as quickly as hers had. He leaned forward until their foreheads touched.

"Until death," he said quietly.

She was quiet for a moment but she knew he needed to hear the words.

"Until death," she agreed. "I will follow you from this day until my last day."

She had made her knight's vow to three great leaders. King Renly and Lady Catelyn were gone but Aegon the Sixth Targaryen, King of the Seven Kingdoms and Prince of Dorne was alive. She was stronger, smarter and better equipped now to protect her liege. And protect him she would. He was more than the prince who was promised, more than a king, even more than a man. He was the _Sword of the Morning_, the sword of the Gods. It was her duty to guide him.

As the Red Priestess had foretold, she was the light in the darkness.


	39. Territory Keeper

The Keeper

Chapter 39 – Territory Keeper

Brienne and Griff were both quiet for a moment longer, foreheads pressed together, the tension settling into a more tranquil stillness. Ardayn ruffled its wings and leaned closer to them, as if to assure itself the harsh exchange had truly ended. Brienne turned from Griff to smile at Podrick and the five. The silver-grey dragon squawked softly and launched itself at her. Brienne released Griff to accept the usually stoic dragon into her arms.

"I'm sorry," Griff said quietly, reaching out to stroke Ardayn's neck. "It's easy to say I'll be a just king, but sometimes hard to follow in practice. I'll improve, with you at my side to ground me. I know all of Westeros needs saving, not just Dorne."

The rest of the dragons became restless and began to cry for attention. Griff dropped down onto the bench again, accepting Gallan into his lap even as he reached for Serdun. Brienne knelt beside Podrick, with Ardayn in her lap. Catren and Allwyn strained forward even as they stayed close to Podrick. Brienne released Ardayn to hug them.

"I'm sorry, too." Brienne shifted back to settle Ardayn on Podrick's other side. She turned to look up at Griff. "I know a knight should never speak to her king as I spoke to you."

"I'm not just your king." Griff also shifted away from Gallan and Serdun to rise to his feet. "We are so much more. I _need_ you to be honest and direct with me. Those closest to me must always be truthful, always hold me to the highest standards."

He held out his hand to her. Brienne reached for him but instead of grasping her arm as warriors did, Griff took her hand. He used his stronger build and slight height advantage to pull her to a standing position.

"A_ good king allows those he trusts to offer advice and knows when to temper his own actions," Brienne said quietly. "Those who protect the king may have occasions to protect the king from himself."_

_"__Exactly." Griff looked directly into her eyes, his indigo gaze clear and warm._

_She smiled at the warmth in his eyes. He wasn't offended or angered by her words. He truly agreed with her. Her king would accept advice and even criticism from those he trusted __because__ he trusted them. Even Daenerys, despite her hunger for conquest, had understood how important it was for a ruler to have true, honest advisors to receive true, honest advice._

"_You're true to your loyalties and honest about what you see as my shortcomings. That's what I want, what I need, in those around me. A ruler can lose touch with her subjects, even without sitting on a horrible throne, fifteen feet above them."_

Brienne's heart fluttered at remembering Daenerys's words from the first evening in her rooms in the Red Keep. The Dragon Queen had been pleased by Brienne's insistence that she would always follow her true king. Daenerys had thought Brienne's king was Jon Snow, the man for whom the queen had begun to develop warm feelings. She thought a union with Jon would give her both the North and Brienne's loyalty.

Did Daenerys now know Brienne's loyalty was to her nephew, Rhaegar's son, the rightful King of the Seven Kingdoms? Griff had instructed Tyrion to send a raven to Daenerys informing her of the new Prince of Dorne. Had she gotten that scroll? She, Jon and the army they led were still several days away from Harrenhal. They would meet with the Unsullied and the remaining fighters still alive in the Riverlands. How would Daenerys react to knowing her brother's son had a greater right to rule than she did?

"Your Grace, my Lady Ser," Podrick broke in softly. "What happens now?"

Brienne and Griff both turned to look at her squire. He and the dragons were more relaxed and calmer, watching them alertly. Though alert, they no longer had the tense, strained postures that had revealed their distress. Podrick leaned forward, as much as he could with Allwyn in his lap, to take in their responses.

"What do you mean?" Griff asked, accepting Catren when the brown dragon flew into his arms.

Allwyn curled in Podrick's lap, lazy now that the tension had broken between Griff and Brienne. Podrick stroked the blue-grey dragon as he looked up at Griff with earnest, dark eyes. Brienne held out her arms, beckoning to the other dragons. Ardayn and Serdun, the most independent of the five, looked at her with polite interest. As was their nature, they turned their reptilian gazes to monitor the people watching from the castle behind them. Even so, both dragons still pressed into Podrick, a clear indication of how much their parents' argument had upset them. Gallan took up Brienne's offer and flew into her waiting arms. She hugged it close as it rested its head on her shoulder.

"What will happen to Ellaria Sand now?" Podrick elaborated, bringing Brienne's attention back to the conversation.

Brienne stiffened and looked at Griff. Gallan, wrapped in her arms, also stiffened when it felt the tension in Brienne's body. The blue dragon cried out and looked over to Griff. Catren, held in Griff's arms, responded by wrapping its tail tightly around Griff's waist. Griff didn't tense as he looked soberly back at Podrick.

"She'll return to Dorne, Pod," Griff explained as he stroked Catren's long neck in slow, soothing strokes. "She did what she did with Ser Manfrey and Lord Anders's tacit approval. They feel she was defending Dorne and has been punished enough for her actions."

"Punished enough?" Brienne repeated. "She murdered Myrcella!"

Gallan cried softly. Even Ardayn and Serdun turned from watching the crowd to look at her. Allwyn sat up in Podrick's lap, its head turning from Brienne to Griff then back again. Catren tightened its hold on Griff, even while he stroked the brown dragon to soothe it. Brienne forced herself to calm. She had to remember how young the five truly were. They could feel her tension but didn't understand it, especially so soon after witnessing their angry exchange.

"She murdered an innocent child," Brienne continued, keeping her voice and posture relaxed. "There must be punishment for such a charge."

"Ellaria also lost a daughter," Griff pointed out, being equally careful to keep his tone and posture calm. "Even more, she had to watch that daughter die and rot before her eyes. Cersei didn't endure that pain despite the hundreds of people she's killed."

"I agree that Cersei should be punished for her actions," Brienne nodded, stroking Gallan's neck, mimicking Griff's action. "But that doesn't excuse Ellaria."

"Oberyn's family was at war with the Lannisters," Griff reminded. "And I already agreed to give them Ellaria in exchange for bringing _Dawn_ to King's Landing. Myrcella was one innocent but Westeros is filled with many innocents. Brienne, you cannot focus on one child's death when we need to save all of the Seven Kingdoms."

Griff paused to gauge her reaction. Brienne sighed heavily and dropped her head to rest her cheek against Gallan's neck. The blue dragon responded by rubbing its head against her hair. Brienne understood Griff's reasoning but couldn't help but think of Jaime. He'd been given a single moment of joy with his daughter, to be her father, before she was so cruelly taken away from him. Most people thought of Jaime as dishonorable but that was only because they didn't understand the truth of the sacrifices he'd made. How were these terrible events affecting him?

"Brienne, is avenging Myrcella's death worth more than the goodwill of the powerful, slighted lords who have brought an army to our doorsteps?" Griff asked quietly. "Are you willing to sacrifice every other innocent child between here and Dorne for Jaime Lannister's daughter's memory?"

Immediately, Brienne's mind went to Ela and the other babies still in the maester's chambers. Myrcella had been innocent but she was only one of many innocents sacrificed for poor choices. The Riverlands were filled with innocent children, some the starving offspring of slaughtered fighters, others the unwanted reminders of savage assaults on helpless women. A war with Dorne would plunge the Stormlands and the Reach into the same horrors that plagued the Riverlands. It would take all of Griff's compassion and resources to restore one devastated region. How would he cope with the destruction of two more regions, especially if diplomacy could save the people from bloodshed and horror?

"No," Brienne admitted with a heavy sigh, "Preventing war with Dorne is more important."

Griff nodded. "And what about your little Love?"

"Love?" Brienne looked up. "What do you mean?"

"Jorrāelagon," Griff expanded. "What is her future in King's Landing as an unwanted child of the streets? Here, she's just another orphan cast aside because she doesn't look the way the narrow-minded lords expect her to look. She and the other children will fit in amongst the Dornish. Ser Manfrey has given me his word that the children will be fostered at Sunspear, as safe as they can be, while still close to you, and still in Westeros."

"You're taking Ela away?" Brienne gasped.

"Only while we face the threat of the Army of the Dead," Griff assured her. "Once the threat has been defeated, and I take my place as king, it'll be safe for her to return."

"But will she really be safe in Dorne?" Brienne asked, her hands stilling on Gallan's back. "How can we be sure Ser Manfrey won't treat the children as hostages while they're in his care?"

"Manfrey is angry and desperate for revenge but he's not stupid," Griff explained. "I have blood rights to the Dornish throne and already hold the loyalty of the majority of lords. Opposing me would turn some of the most powerful Houses against him. He won't survive war with me and the other lords."

"Plus, the dragons are protective of the babies, too," Podrick added. "Ser Manfrey wouldn't dare harm them once he sees how they play with Ela. Only a fool would risk the wrath of dragons."

Podrick looked to Griff for confirmation. Griff smiled his slow, satisfied smile that he'd inherited from Oberyn Martell. His eyes glittered with approval as he nodded to her squire.

"That's a very good suggestion, Podrick," Griff praised. "Observing such an interaction will remind Ser Manfrey that the dragons now hold the Dornish throne. We'll answer disloyalty with fire and blood, if necessary. It'll also assure the children's safety. Ser Manfrey will do everything in his power to keep Ela and the other children safe, knowing his own life depends upon it."

Podrick sat up straight and expanded under Griff warm approval. Serdun and Ardayn, sitting on both sides of him, unfurled their wings and took to the sky. Now that the crisis had passed, they were eager to return to guard duty. Catren and Gallan also unwound themselves from Griff and Brienne and flew towards the warmth of the late-afternoon sun. Even from their distance, Brienne could hear the cries of awe and fear from the people watching them from the castle.

"Does that comfort you, Brienne?" Griff asked, moving closer to her. "The babies will be safe and well cared for in Dorne. They can have a future there, grow to become powerful warriors. Isn't that why you saved them? So they can have a chance to live and a future to strive for?"

"I…I hadn't thought about their futures when I brought them to the maester," Brienne confessed. "I only knew they needed help. But what you say is true. What good would it have done to save them if they have nothing to live for?"

"Wait!" Podrick suddenly straightened. "What about _Dragonbinder_? How can dragons hold the throne if there's a horn that can enslave dragons in Dorne?"

Brienne gasped as a shudder passed through her. Griff caught her arm to steady her. Allwyn, still in Podrick's lap, sat up straight. Above her head, the other dragons cried out at her distress. The people nearby mimicked their cries as some rushed to leave the courtyard. Brienne took deep breaths to calm herself.

"Brienne, are you alright?" Griff demanded.

She nodded even as tears gathered behind her eyes. "I'm fine but that horn terrifies me."

"I understand but Manfrey doesn't have Dragonbinder." Griff rubbed her arm to soothe her, similar to the method he'd used on Catren. "I had my spies check the Dornish ship after they docked in Blackwater Bay. None of the lords brought the horn with them. I also have spies in Dorne, checking their castles and keeps. They haven't found it, either."

"That might mean the horn isn't in Dorne," Podrick surmised.

"If it is in Dorne, the lords will be fools to use it. I won't spare them if they cause harm to the dragons," Griff vowed savagely.

"You said most of the lords support you," Brienne pointed out, fighting to keep herself calm. "They won't risk using a weapon they know is a threat to the dragons. The few lords who don't fully support you are getting what they wanted. Using that horn will only bring them pain and suffering."

"That could mean Podrick is correct," Griff concluded. "The lords don't have the horn."

"Do you think it's still in King's Landing?" Brienne asked, looking up at the sky.

The dragons, minus Allwyn, were circling above then, staying close even as they soared through the warm late afternoon breeze. Griff and Podrick also looked up to observe the four flying above them. Griff's expression was sober when he looked back at Brienne.

"These five are powerful but still small. Their firepower is limited and they're still vulnerable," Griff noted. "They're dangerous to an individual or a small group but an army can bring them down."

Brienne shuddered again as she recalled her terror when Ardayn, Gallan and Serdun, only a month old at the time, has set the pirate armada's sails on fire.

"_Brienne, fire can't kill a dragon!" Griff caught her arm and dragged her away from the railing._

_She fought him. "No, but swords and arrows can!"_

"Maybe they shouldn't be flying." Brienne fearfully looked up again. "A bolt could bring them down at any second."

"Brienne, calm yourself," Griff urged, now rubbing her other arm, too. "No one will harm the dragons in King's Landing. There are too many guards on the ground and I have too many spies in the shadows for anyone to get away with hurting the dragons."

"And the people know the young dragons are here to help them," Podrick added. "I've spent the last few days in the markets. The merchants are still afraid and unsure of the dragons but no one has shown anger or malice towards them."

"I don't believe whoever has the horn plans to use it now, Brienne," Griff assured her. "As I said, these dragons are young with limited range. If a person wants dragons as weapons, he will go after the big ones. Why takes these five, who need to grow for at least another year before they're truly dangerous, when they can take Drogon and Rhaegal instead?"

"But only the Dothraki and people who already know Drogon and Rhaegal are traveling with Daenerys," Brienne insisted. "They'll meet up with the Unsullied and men loyal to Jon Snow when they reach Harrenhal. None of them would try to enslave dragons."

"Their meeting location is no secret," Griff reminded her. "Daenerys's armies move slowly because they're in large groups and send scouts ahead. A small party or one traveling by ship can reach Harrenhal before they do."

"Do you mean the Ironborn?" Podrick asked. "Queen Yara told us about _Dragonbinder_. She's loyal to Queen Daenerys. Why would she tell us about the horn if she wanted to use it?"

"It's not just the Ironborn who use ships, Podrick," Brienne explained. She gasped. "Harrenhal! Your ancestor, Aegon the First, burned everyone in Harrenhal because they were enclosed inside the fortress walls. Do you think that's what the person who has _Dragonbinder_ intends to do? All of Daenerys's forces are meeting at Harrenhal, along with the Riverlands fighters. If a person enslaves the big dragons, they can force the dragons to burn Daenerys's entire armies in a single stroke!"

"How, Brienne?" Griff asked.

Brienne stared at him, confused. "What do you mean, how? By commanding the dragons to fire upon the men."

"It's not that simple," Griff explained. "First, most of Harrenhal is a burned-out husk with many ways to escape. Second, the thief needs to communicate with the dragons. These five only know select commands in High Valyrian. How does Daenerys communicate with her dragons?"

Brienne and Podrick stared at each other. They'd been so alarmed by the knowledge of a weapon that could harm the dragons, they didn't stop to consider how it could be used. Griff was right. Simply having _Dragonbinder_ wasn't enough for the thief to _use_ the horn properly.

"I think Drogon and Rhaegal also follow commands in High Valyrian," Brienne ventured. "It's the natural language of dragons and Daenerys's mother tongue. I don't know which phrases they understand."

Griff nodded. "Even if the thief knew the correct commands, ordering Drogon and Rheagal to fire won't kill an entire army, only a section at a time. The dragons will fire then wait for the next order. Third, the thief doesn't have a way to direct them. Don't forget, the dragons still have their free will. What's to keep them from firing on the thief's men when ordered to burn?"

"So Drogon and Rhaegal can't be turned against Daenerys's armies?" Brienne questioned.

"They can," Griff admitted, "but it will take the thief time and effort. It's not like when Drogon attacked the pirate armada. Then, it was acting from its instinct to protect the five. It knew the pirates were a threat to the baby dragons and destroyed them. A thief, who Drogon doesn't choose to follow, will have a hard time controlling the dragons."

"Then who could control such a weapon?" Podrick asked. "Why risk using such a dangerous tool if it's so hard to manage?"

"Fire is hard to manage," Griff pointed out. "Yet we us forms of it, including wildfire, in battle. The goal of war is to inflict more damage on the enemy than they do to you."

They fell silent after that sobering statement. Almost as one, all three of them looked down at Allwyn curled up comfortably in Podrick's lap. The blue and grey dragon blinked lazily, relaxed and cozy in Podrick's safe, protective arms. It made no effort to leave its warm haven, content to be held.

"Could someone use the horn just to hurt them?" Brienne asked. "Yara said the horn made a sound so horrible she tried not to hear it. It distracted her to such an extent that she couldn't think properly. The dragons have even more sensitive hearing and emotional response than we do."

Griff frowned. "It's possible. The thief might have stolen _Dragonbinder_ to use as a defensive weapon, instead of using it for attack."

"Then the dragons are safe as long as they don't attack whoever has the horn?" Podrick asked hopefully.

Griff thought for a moment then shook his head, the corners of his mouth turning down. "I don't know, Podrick. The thief hasn't used it yet, so he's either waiting for the right time or the horn isn't here. It's even possible the horn has been smuggled to Essos, in anticipation of new dragons being hatched from the rocks people are sure are hardened dragon eggs."

"Dragon eggs?" Podrick gasped. "There are more dragon eggs in Essos? No one has been able to hatch them? Doesn't a person need to be a Targaryen to hatch dragon eggs?"

Griff paused again, considering Podrick's words. "It's possible. The only people who have hatched dragon eggs are Brienne and Daenerys, both of whom have Targaryen blood."

"I had help from Drogon," Brienne reminded. "It was my blood mixed with a real dragon's fire and magic. Daenerys birthed dragons with only fire and magic, without a dragon."

"Also, most of the eggs in Essos are just stones shaped into dragon eggs," Griff explained. "All the Targaryen blood and magic in the world won't turn rocks into dragons."

"So all we can do is wait?" Podrick surmised sadly, his eyes heavy with worry. "We won't be able to identify the thief until it tries to use the horn?"

Griff looked just as concerned as he tilted his head to watch the dragons overhead. "No, we'll continue searching and asking questions. We'll take precautions but we cannot allow our fear to control us or limit the dragons."

Brienne nodded in agreement. She looked down at Allwyn. While the others played and stood guard, this one snuggled in. But Allwyn was as fierce and protective as the others, ready to defend them when necessary.

"Allwyn, sōvegon," Brienne encouraged. She scooped up the dragon and stroked under its neck. "Don't you want fish?"

"One month with you and all it wants is to be held," Griff murmured as he raised his eyebrows at Allwyn. "You spoil them."

"They perform flawlessly when necessary," Brienne insisted. "They're still babies, even younger than Ela."

Allwyn made a production of unfurling its wings and stretching. Then the little actor sprang from Brienne's arms and thrust itself into the sky, gliding majestically above their heads before rising to join the others. Their audience, staying near the safety of the castle walls, cried out in awe and delight as the five swooped through the sky above the glistening bay.

Brienne watched them for a moment before turning back to Griff. Her king was still looking up, watching the dragons with the same affectionate half-smile she knew was on her face. For all his attempts to be stern, he was as enamored with the five as she was. The discipline he provided them was making the dragons stronger and smarter but he spent as much time holding them and giving them affection as she did.

The dragons' discipline came from watching and learning from the _Golden Company_. They had observed when Griff trained his men and they'd proved to be apt pupils, learning strategies to protect themselves and those they held dear. The dragons were in King's Landing, with them, while a portion of the _Golden Company_ had landed in Westeros. Griff had told her he didn't want to jeopardize their mission by telling her about it within the walls of the Red Keep. But they were no longer within the walls.

"Griff, where is the _Golden Company_ now?" Brienne asked quietly.

He paused for so long she was worried he wouldn't tell her, not even here in the privacy of the godswood. It was the calculation gleaming in his eyes that told her he was debating on how much to reveal to her. Finally, Griff took a deep breath.

"They're taking territory," Griff admitted.

"Why?" Brienne burst out. "I thought you understood Westeros needs a champion, not a conqueror. Why are you taking territory when you should be protecting the people?"

"I _am_ protecting the people," Griff insisted. "I'm protecting them from enduring a war between Daenerys and me. Such an event will tear the kingdoms apart."

"What?" Brienne shook her head. "How does taking territory protect the people?"

"We don't know when the Night King and his Army of the Dead will strike," Griff pointed out. "But we do know Daenerys will confront me, perhaps in a matter of days. I need men, castles and armies to stand against her. With the Dornish on my side, I can match her men for men. I even have the stronger position since the Dornish know the territory and how to attack from the shadows. Now my men are creating alliances in the southlands. I need the southern lords to stand with me and build fallback positions for my armies."

"Daenerys has dragons," Brienne spoke through a tightening throat. "Two fully grown dragons who follow her commands. The greatest armies in the world cannot stand against dragons."

"We won't go against Drogon and Rhaegal," Griff assured her confidently.

"Why not?" Brienne demanded. "Daenerys _rode_ Drogon into battle against the Lannister army's rear guard. Drogon broke their defensive line in seconds. She took all three dragons north of the Wall to battle the Wights. Her dragons are battle trained."

Despite herself, Brienne could feel the anxiety quicken in her blood. Her voice rose, overcoming her best efforts to keep it even. Over their heads, the dragons cried out and headed back for them. Serdun and Ardayn landed first, taking up defensive positions and screeching up at the people near the castle. The people, well out of fire range, cringed reflexively as many hurried into the safety of the castle.

Catren, Gallan and Allwyn reminded in the skies over their heads, looking for threats.

"Zaldrīzoti, māzigon naejot issa!" Griff called, even as he reached out to pull Serdun and Ardayn closer to his side.

Catren, Gallan and Allwyn landed one at a time, with Allwyn landing first, followed by Gallan and finally Catren. The dragons circled around them, alternating from looking up at the castle and over their little group.

"Drogon and Rhaegal won't attack us because we have these five," Griff explained.

Brienne stared at him. "What do you mean?"

"Drogon won't attack us or the little dragons, Brienne," Griff insisted. "Nor will it allow anyone else to attack them, either. No matter where they are, Drogon will come to their aid. The dragons won't fight each other."

"You're forgetting the Targaryen civil war," Brienne reminded him. "The dragons fought against other dragons then, just as Targaryens fought each other. Why would it be different now?"

"Because these dragons were born directly of Drogon," Griff said. "We know Drogon cares for them even more than it loves Daenerys. In the Dragonpit, it chose to follow the young dragons rather than remain with Daenerys. Its natural instinct to protect the five. It will do so, even if it must protect them from its own mother."

_Daenerys leaned forward, but still touched the now-sleeping dragons on either side of her. "Do you see the problem this presents, Lady Brienne? I conquered the slave cities in the Bay of Dragons because my dragons were at my side. Now, their loyalties are divided between me and the five dragons Drogon brought into this world."_

_So, this was the true reason for Daenerys's meeting. She was worried about her power again. Her dragons were her ultimate weapons, she needed them at her side. Drogon's offspring may have brought her the joy of new life but they weakened her control over her children, thus weakening her power. Even Rhaegal had left her to protect the young dragons. _

"_We have the same goal," Brienne pointed out quietly. "We all want to keep the dragons safe. These five are Drogon's children. It's a parent's natural instinct to protect their child. Losing Viserion has made Drogon and Rhaegal diligent about protecting the five. They're family."_

Brienne gasped, recalling her meeting with Daenerys and Missandei their first night in the Red Keep.

"You're right," she agreed and told them about her conversation with Daenerys and Missandei. "Daenerys knows it, too. She's already witnessed Drogon and Rhaegal choose these five over her. Does that mean we don't have to fear another Dance of the Dragons?"

"It does," Griff reassured her. "If Daenerys knows she can't use dragons against me, if Tyrion explains my armies are stronger than hers, if Jon Snow is as great a conciliator as he's been said to be and if Dorne remains peaceable, she may continue to focus on the Army of the Dead while we focus on saving the living."

"That won't last," Brienne cautioned. "Daenerys wants to conquer. She's sacrificed everything to rule Westeros. She won't give up the throne simply because you tell her to."

"What will she do?" Griff asked. "Will she leave Jon Snow to fight the Night King alone and bring her Dothraki and Unsullied back to King's Landing? Then what? Will she try to attack the capital where the young dragons are? Do you think Drogon will allow any army, even its own mother's army, to attack the five? You saw what Drogon did to the pirate armada. It didn't just defeat it. It _destroyed_ it."

"You're trying to use her dragons against her." Brienne stared at him. "It won't work. You're using strategy and logic against a woman who operates from her ambitions and emotions."

"She may be ambitious and emotional, but her advisors are not," Griff pointed out. "Jon Snow is focused on defeating the Army of the Dead. He commands the North. They won't follow her, or accept her, if she abandons him and the Northmen."

"Jon Snow and the North won't follow you, either," Brienne insisted. "You only control Dorne. Is that enough?"

"No, Brienne, I hold more than Dorne," Griff corrected. "Through the contract Daenerys signed with the _Golden Company_, I also hold the most powerful keeps Stormlands, the Crownland and the Reach. Most of the southlands are falling under my, or my men's, command."

"_HS can stand for Harry Strickland," Jorah said, studying the scroll. "He's the current leader of the _Golden Company_."_

"_Aye, if it is, then I know what the scroll means," Jon said. "Waters and Storm are the surnames of bastards, as is Snow in the North. Their men want titles and lands in the Stormlands and the Crownlands."_

"_That makes sense, Khaleesi," Jorah agreed. "Your brother Rhaegar's strongest allies were in the regions closest to King's Landing. They were cast out or lost lands and titles when Robert took the Iron Throne."_

"_Then a rose without thorns would be the Reach," Tyrion surmised. "Harry Strickland is asking for Highgarden in exchange for fighting honorably."_

Brienne stared at her king, as more pieces fell into place. Daenerys had indeed agreed to hand over the wealthiest keeps and castles in the southlands to the _Golden Company_ officers, and their secret leader, Aegon Martell Targaryen. Griff, through tactic, strategy and his Martell blood, was quietly taking command of three of the Seven Kingdoms.

"You now control most of the southlands through them," Brienne noted. "The areas that feed and provide for King's Landing. Food and supplies will flow into the capital again once you make those holdings productive. The people here will give you their loyalty when they see you're taking care of them. You'll hold Dorne, the Reach, the Stormlands and the Crownlands."

"I have even more than that." Griff smiled his slow, satisfied smile. "I also have the North."

Brienne jerked back in shock at his statement. "No, you don't. Jon Snow is the King in the North. Daenerys pressured him to bend the knee to her but he refused. He said he would only accept her as his queen if she defeated the Night King."

Griff nodded. "She hasn't defeated the Night King, has she? Until she does, or if she only does it with help, then Jon Snow's loyalty remains with you."

"Me?" Brienne's eyes opened wide. "Jon Snow is a king. He doesn't owe my loyalty."

"But he gave it, just the same," Griff corrected. "If my sources are correct, his exact words to your father were 'My family is deeply indebted to your daughter. Rest assured, should she ever require it, _House Stark stands at her back_.' Whether he intended it or not, the King in the North has pledged his loyalty and his house to _you_. You, Brienne, have given me the North. Jon Snow has publicly, and often, pledged his support to you. You are mine, thus, the North is also mine."

Griff was right. Jon Snow was an honorable man. His word was his bond. It was known that the son of Ned Stark would be true to his word. Brienne's mouth dropped open as she recalled many interactions with and regarding the King in the North.

"_Brienne." Jon took small, slow steps closer to her. "You saved Sansa and created a bond with House Stark that will never be broken."_

_Brienne looked at Jon. He caught her gaze and smiled reassuringly. He stood tall and straight, a king in his own right with Davos at his side. Jon shifted slightly, symbolically shielding Brienne and the dragons._

"_Brienne is under the protection of House Stark," Jon snapped. "If you insult her again, I'll forget you're a man of honor."_

"_King Jon clearly holds you in high regard, Lady Brienne," Missandei noted as she settled back in her seat. "He's very protective of you."_

Jon Snow _had_ publicly and repeatedly pledged his loyalty and House Stark to her. He'd honored that pledge by protecting her from Jaime's anger and Daenerys's demands. But she was a knight, and hadn't even been that, when Jon had first pledged House Stark's support to her. He was a king, leader of the largest region in Westeros. Did his words to her stand if Daenerys demanded his loyalty? Had the King in the North, unknowingly, pledged the North to the true King of the Seven Kingdoms?

Brienne looked around but didn't see the setting sun, the lush godswood, the imposing Red Keep, the people or even the dragons. She saw the handiwork of the Gods. Stunned silent, she marveled at their command of men and their destinies. She'd felt fortunate when Lady Catelyn had accepted her, a disgraced Kingsguard on the run, into her service. As a sworn sword, it had been her duty and privilege to return Lady Sansa to her brother. The brother who'd risen to a king and stood on the edge of a great destiny of his own.

Could Jon Snow be the key to lasting peace in Westeros?


	40. Crossbow Keeper

The Keeper

Chapter 40 – Crossbow Keeper

The next morning, Brienne studied the assembled men and women in the Throne Room. These were the lords and ladies of the nearby keeps and castles of the Stormlands, the Reach and the Crownlands. Some of them were so young they should still be in the schoolroom, studying past wars not facing the upcoming Great War. But these boys, and some girls, now carried the burden of their Houses and their people, thrust into power after their parents had died in the explosion of the Sept of Baelor.

Many of the young leaders could not hide their fear. Their faces were pale and tense, shiny with sweat, their lips pressed together until bloodless. They stood in a room filled with hardened men who had seen many battles, the rightful King of the Seven Kingdoms who'd seemingly risen from the dead, the brothers of the disgraced queen who had murdered their parents and their loyal men, Dornish lords who had no love for southland Houses and living, fire-breathing dragons. Brienne admired the young leaders' courage for standing in the assembly.

"Are you ready, Podrick?" Brienne asked quietly.

She kept her body still but allowed her gaze to take in the room. Podrick waited beside her, equally steady, at the foot of the remains of the Iron Throne. Serdun, Catren and Ardayn formed a line in front of them. Their positioning was wide, leaving room for Gallan and Allwyn to take places between them. The three dragons sat tall and straight, aware they were the main focus of everyone in the hall.

"I am, my Lady Ser," Podrick assured her, his gaze darting around as he also surveyed the assembled crowd.

Podrick moved to the other side of the dais to stand behind Ardayn. Griff would stand before this crowd with his back to the dragons and the remains of the Iron Throne. The positioning was a deliberate and inspired decision. It made it clear to everyone assembled that the dragons were powerful enough to destroy anything, including the grand illusions of past kings. It would also limit those who came to stand with him to only those the dragons trusted. No man with false intentions would dare turn his back on dragons.

Griff walked through the crowd to the steps before the Iron Throne, Gallan and Allwyn flying at his back. The lords and ladies, young and old, gasped and stumbled away, their natural fear of dragons overwhelming their learned respect for monarchy. They quickly reassembled as Griff, Allwyn and Gallan reached the raised steps, giving them distance and the illusion of protection from the most powerful creatures in King's Landing.

The Prince of Dorne wore a brown leather jacket impressed with a gold spear piercing a red sun on an orange field, the sigil of House Nymeros Martell. He stopped directly before the remains of the throne created by his ancestor, Aegon the First Targaryen. _Dawn_, the extraordinary sword of House Dayne, hung at his hip. Allwyn and Gallan joined the other dragons, landing with practiced precision. Even the frightened young lords and ladies gasped, wide-eyed and awed, at their performance.

"My lords and ladies, Westeros is at a critical and dangerous point in its history," Griff began. "We face starvation, disease and a war against an army unlike any we've ever known before. You've all heard stories of the threat beyond the Wall and thought it fanciful tales meant to frighten children."

Griff paused and looked around the room. Some of the younger lords and ladies looked even more afraid while the older lords looked at Griff with scorn.

"Aye," a voice called out from the back. "I have no fear of grumpkins or snarks but I do fear foreigners with arakhs and dragons."

Tyrion, showing the raw courage he so rarely was given credit for, stepped out of the crowd. He looked at Griff, his eyebrows raised in question. Griff nodded and waved Tyrion to stand at his side. The Hand to Queen Daenerys came to stand at Griff's right. Several people gasped at the sight of the Lannister lion standing, unafraid and accepted, before the Targaryen dragons.

"The threat is real, Lord Hayford," Tyrion said. "I have seen these creatures, these Wights, with my own eyes. Queen Daenerys took her dragons north of the Wall to fight the Army of the Dead. Even her dragons weren't enough to stop them."

"Then what can we, houses without dragons, whose armies have been destroyed by Queen Cersei or her bastards, do?" A plain-looking lady with greying blond hair but a strong, straight posture spoke out.

A murmur of agreement rose from the crowd. Griff leaned over as Tyrion whispered up to him. He nodded then straightened to address the woman.

"Your concerns are valid, Lady Tinda, and shared by many here," Griff agreed. "Currently, the Army of the Dead is contained by the Wall. We have become lax in manning the Wall and guarding the realms of men. Once the Night's Watch was a noble institution, maintained by men of honor. Our negligence has turned their castles into little more than sparsely populated penal colonies. My aunt and Jon Snow march with an army of fifty thousand men to reopen the sixteen shuttered castles and man them all with disciplined warriors."

"That may guard us from fairytales but what guards us from those who are power-hungry?" Hayford spoke again. "We've seen only bloodshed since King Robert died. Joffrey the Cruel plunged us into war against the North and the Baratheons, Tommen the Weak gave us over to the Faith Militants and Cersei the Mad killed our blood and her own by destroying the Sept of Baelor. We suffered because of the Lannisters. Now their men fill the tourney grounds and their imp stands at your side."

Again, Tyrion reached up and Griff leaned down. After a quick exchange, both men turned to face the angry lord.

"We no longer have the option of standing against each other, Lord Hayford," Tyrion said quietly. "The Westerland troops are committed to marching north to aide Queen Daenerys and Jon Snow, to protecting us all. They will provide the secondary line of defense if the Army of the Dead pass the Wall and enter the lands of men."

Hayford snorted. "You offer us only words, imp. Words will not protect us."

"No, but the Dornish will." Ned spoke from the crowd.

The young Lord of Starfall took a deep breath and walked to Griff's left side. Only Brienne, facing him, saw the look of stark terror on his face as he stopped beside his prince, within Serdun and Allwyn's firing range. He looked at the dragons, his fear visible. The dragons looked back at him with the same polite interest they showed to Tyrion. Ned closed his eyes briefly before he schooled his features into calm confidence and turned to face the crowd.

"While your lords and kings went to war, our wise Prince Doran kept us out of conflict," Ned continued. "Our armies are strong and whole. We have already marched into the Reach and the Stormlands. We will join with our prince, Aegon Martell Targaryen, and protect your homes and families."

The murmur of whispered conversation erupted amongst the leaders. Tyrion, standing on Griff's other side, stiffened. Griff glanced at him then looked past him to Manfrey. The castellan nodded with satisfaction. Griff then turned his head to look at Jaime, standing stiff and controlled, at the back of the group. Jaime's mouth tightened but that was his only response.

"The Dornish have no love for Crownland houses," Tanda, the Lady of Stokeworth noted. "Why would you protect us?"

"Because they, like you, have sworn their allegiance to me," Griff answered.

Many of the leaders began to protest, some even shaking their heads. Tyrion's eyes widened as he looked from Griff to the leaders then back to the Prince of Dorne. Griff held up his hand to silence everyone. He smiled his slow, satisfied smile.

"My men now hold Storm's End in the Stormlands, Highgarden in the Reach and Rosby in the Crownlands," He explained. "You pledged your loyalty to your liege lords. Their loyalty is to me. You are my people. I will ensure your protection."

A gasp passed through the crowd. Even Tyrion echoed it. Jaime exchanged grim looks with his brother and also surveyed the shocked, confused crowd.

"Those castles have been promised to the _Golden Company_," Tyrion protested. "Queen Daenerys agreed to give them in exchange for the company aiding her in securing the Iron Throne."

"And so we did." Griff smiled with cool satisfaction. "You were here to witness the event."

Brienne saw Tyrion jerk visibly at hearing Griff's claim. But then Tyrion didn't know Griff was the secret commander of the _Golden Company_. He wasn't aware that Griff's men had been in Westeros for the past month, quietly taking over the regions and creating access points for the Dornish troops to filter into the southlands. The Hand to Queen Daenerys looked grim as he studied at the assembled lords and ladies, most of whom had, some unknowingly, pledged themselves and their houses to Aegon Martell Targaryen.

"You saw _Serjeant_ Brienne Tarth of the _Golden Company_ lead the dragons through the capital," Griff continued. "She claimed the Iron Throne in the name of House Targaryen. She's the reason my aunt now calls herself Queen of Westeros."

Brienne stood very straight as the murmur rose to a rumble. People spoke amongst themselves, staring at her with eyes wide in shock and wonder. Some of the men frowned in disapproval while others seemed reluctantly impressed. The older ladies appeared confused while they few young ladies looked at her with a mixture of disbelief and admiration. Despite herself, Brienne couldn't control the blush that stained her cheeks.

Tyrion turned to stare at her, his eyes wide, his face a mixture of shock, surprise and even a little awe. From the back of the group, Jaime had an identical expression on his face. Bronn, standing beside Jaime, looked thoughtful as he studied Brienne. She ducked her head but couldn't control the heat in her face.

Why had Griff called her Serjeant? She was only an officer with the _Golden Company_. She'd hidden her commission in her childhood bedroom in Tarth but had admired it often enough that she could see the parchment when she closed her eyes. It wasn't the most important issue at the moment but it allowed her a moment's distraction from the noise and confusion inside the Throne Room.

"You're the son of the Prince Rhaeagar, the rightful ruler of Westeros," Hayford said. "You say we pledged ourselves to you. How will you protect us? What will keep the Dragon Queen from attacking us with her dragons when she finds out?"

"My right to kingship is superseded by your right to safety and protection, Lord Hayford," Griff assured. "I won't go to war against my aunt. She remains committed to the army of men while I remain here to oversee the duties of the kingdom."

"But she has dragons, too," a childish voice called out. "Her dragons are bigger than yours."

The crowd shifted to reveal a young girl of no more than eight standing beside a soberly dressed older woman. The girl wore her dark brown hair in a long braid that lay upon her shoulder. Her gown, though made of fine silk, was ill-fitting, as if it had been hastily altered. Griff bent down to confer with Tyrion before addressing the child.

"Lady Elinor, I understand your concern." Griff's voice was noticeably gentler as he spoke to the young leader of House Massey. "Stone Dance is close to Pentos. No doubt you've heard of the damages inflicted by my aunt's dragons. Those dragons are not a threat to us."

Elinor's little mouth puckered with her frown. "But what will stop them?"

"They won't attack us because Drogon, the biggest dragon, is father to these five dragons," Griff explained. "Would your father have allowed anyone to hurt you, even if that person was your grandmother?"

Elinor shook her head. "No, Father wouldn't let anyone to hurt me. But Grandmother loves me, too. She takes care of me now that the Mad Queen killed Mother and Father."

Elinor shift her small body in an attempt to shield the older woman beside her. The woman placed a steadying hand on the girl's shoulder and blinked back the moisture in her eyes. Brienne swallowed hard to keep tears from springing into her own eyes. She was a knight. Knights didn't cry, not even when they witnessed young children forced to be brave because of the cruelty and reckless ambitions of older, less caring people.

She saw Tyrion's shoulders slump at viewing the small Lady of House Massey. In the back of the room, Jaime grimaced and hung his head. War was an evil thing, killing indiscriminately and making orphans of innocent children. Elinor was one of the lucky ones, with some family left to protect her. Griff turned his head to look at Brienne. His expression was stark but calm, though his indigo eyes were troubled. He turned back to face the assembled crowd.

"It's just as you say, Lady Elinor," he agreed. "My aunt, Drogon's mother, cares for these five as your grandmother cares for you. The dragons will not go to war against each other. We will all work together to protect the people of Westeros, no matter what region they come from."

Brienne watched Tyrion's body stiffen as he looked back at the five. The dragons continued to watch the crowd, knowing Tyrion was no threat to their family. Tyrion looked from the dragons to Griff then to Brienne. Stark realization was apparent in his wide eyes. He knew as well as she did that Aegon Martell Targaryen was swiftly taking control even as he promised to work with Daenerys and Jon Snow.

Tyrion now realized Daenerys's greatest power, her dragons, had not only been nullified, but was a threat to her. Drogon would destroy any army, including the Unsullied and the Dothraki, if it attempted to attack the five. Dragons had free will, powerful emotions and the ability to sense intent. Drogon and Rhaegal had already chosen the young dragons over their own mother. Even more, Drogon had chosen Brienne and Griff to raise the five. It would not tolerate a threat to the young dragons' guardians.

"Many of the lords from Dorne will depart today," Griff announced. "They will return to manage their homes or guide the troops who will protect your homes. Lord Ned Dayne, of Starfall, will remain in the capital to represent Dorne."

Ned, still standing beside Griff, bowed. "It will be my honor, your Grace."

Griff looked into the crowd. "Ser Balon Swann, of Stonehelm, son of Lord Gulian Swann, will represent the Stormlands."

Balon separated himself from the crowd and came to stand next to Tyrion. It was a testament to the knight's courage that he didn't even glance at the dragons. In return, the dragons looked at him with polite interest but remained in their places.

Balon also bowed to Griff. "It will be my honor, your Grace."

"Lord Tyrion Lannister, of Casterly Rock, will represent the Westerlands," Griff continued.

Tyrion blinked rapidly at the unexpected appointment but kept his expression calm. He was Hand to Daenerys but Griff had still included him in his council. Brienne could almost see the dwarf's quick mind work through the possible advantages and disadvantages of the position.

Tyrion bowed to Griff. "It will be my honor, your Grace."

Griff looked into the crowd. "Lady Tanda, will you agree to represent the Crownlands?"

Tanda's eyes widened. "Me, your Grace? I…I would be honored."

"But she's a woman," Hayford protested. "You cannot allow a woman to sit on your counsel. They're unsuited to manage such power. Cersei Lannister was proof of that."

Blood flushed into Brienne's face. She took deep breaths to keep herself from reacting to the lord's ignorant comment. Men had always thought less of her, too, simply because of her gender. They thought her too masculine for a woman but too feminine to achieve greatness. She'd proven them wrong time and again. This man was no different than most Westerosi lords. The dragons, sensing her spiking emotions, stiffened and looked around for the threat.

"The Dornish have had many great female leaders," Ned said quietly. "Prince Aegon and I are both descendants of Queen Nymeria herself. The fault lies in the weakness of the person, not in their gender."

"Westeros has also produced powerful women," Griff added. He smiled back at Brienne. "You stand before one now."

Hayford flushed as he looked at Brienne. "I meant no disrespect, my Lady."

Brienne looked at him. No matter his words, he had disrespected her and every other woman in this room. Some of the girls here would have to make hard decisions, stand for their people in a time of possible devastating war. The Seven Kingdoms would not survive if men like Hayford stood against women like Tanda Stokeworth or even Elinor Massey. Brienne stepped forward so she was almost touching Serdun.

"My Lady _Ser_," Brienne corrected. "I'm a Knight of the Seven Kingdoms, knighted by _Queen_ Daenerys Stormborn, of House Targaryen."

"She's even more than that," Podrick, normally quiet and respectful, spoke up, his voice strong and clear. "_My_ Lady Ser is heir to Tarth, serjeant of the _Golden Company_, keeper of dragons, the Gods' warrior and Lightbringer."

There was a long silence after Podrick's pronouncement. The assembled lords and ladies looked at each other then back at Brienne, some with shock or reluctant approval and others with undisguised disdain. She looked at the combination of pride and admiration in her squire's expression. Podrick's face flushed with color but his stood strong and sure, his chin raised, as if daring others to comment. Once again, she couldn't control her blush. The dragons puffed up, unable to find the source of their mother's anxiety, and hissed at the crowd, extending their wings to their full, impressive width.

The people cried out and began to back away. Griff stepped back and stroked Catren and Gallan to soothe them. Podrick wrapped his arms around Ardayn's neck while Brienne pulled Allwyn and Serdun closer to her. Fear soured the air as the leaders stared at the now anxious dragons. Tyrion stepped forward.

"Thank you all for attending." He raised his voice to be heard over their worried cries. "You are dismissed."

The people hurried for the doors, leaving as fast as they could without appearing to be running away. Some of the young lords and ladies didn't even attempt that decorum and sprinted out of the room. Almost immediately, the Throne Room cleared as the assembled group rushed out of the seven doors and into the hallways. The Lannister guards, who'd been stationed outside the entrances, hastily shut the doors. Only the Dornish lords, the Lannister brothers, Bronn and Balon remained with Griff, Brienne, Podrick and the dragons.

Ned and Balon had backed away from the dragons, their hands held out, away their sword belts, to indicate they weren't threats to the five. The dragons began to calm now that the crowd had left and Brienne was no longer upset. They folded in their wings, relaxed their bodies and snuggled into the warmth of the family members holding them. Jaime and Bronn came closer to the group, to stand by the lords, but still out of the dragons' fire range. Only Tyrion stayed where he was, close enough to touch Ardayn. He smiled affectionately at the five.

"That's the fastest I've ever seen this room clear," he commented, unfazed by the dragons. "Well done, dragons."

"Sȳrī gaomagon, zaldrīzoti," Brienne corrected, as she released Serdun and Allwyn.

"Sȳrī gaomagon, zaldrīzoti," Tyrion repeated, smiling at the five again.

The dragons, calm now, squawked and puffed under the praise. Podrick released Ardayn while Griff gave Catren and Gallan a final stroke. The dragons broke their defensive line to explore the room. Some of the tension left Brienne, too. The dragons would never leave their protective stances if they thought the Dornish lords meant them harm. Even Manfrey, whom they were sure supported the murders of Doran and Trystane, didn't alarm the five. The five, however, alarmed the Dornishmen. They stiffened as the dragons began to prowl around the room. Bronn, seeing their obvious concern, grinned.

"You know they can sense fear, don't you?" The knight hooked his thumbs into his sword belt and rocked back on his heels. "Best you not group yourself together like that. You're too easy a target."

The lords sprang apart instantly, some stumbling in their haste to make themselves less likely targets. Bronn snickered.

"Careful there, Lord Yarnwood," Bronn cautioned. "Looks like you might have tripped on a length of wool or something."

The lords, realizing the knight was japing at their expense, straightened and glared. Anders took a threatening step closer to Bronn. Serdun, exploring only a few feet away, hissed warningly at the Lord of Yronwood. Andres froze, staring wide-eyed at the dragon at Bronn's back. Bronn glanced over at the green dragon then back at Anders, his eyebrows lifted.

"Forgive me, my Lord," Bronn said with exaggerated deference. "I was just trying to be of service to you."

"Bronn," Tyrion hissed. "I heard they're baking fresh lemon cakes in the kitchens today."

Bronn shrugged easily. "Cake is nice. The cook is nicer. If you fine lords will excuse me, I think I'll go down to the kitchens for a bite." He paused and pretended to consider. "Maybe I'll have some cake, too."

Tyrion hissed out his breath again. Bronn swept a careless bow to the lords then walked past the remains of the throne to the carefully hidden servant's door. The lords glared at Tyrion as if he was responsible for Bronn's flippant attitude.

Tyrion shook his head. "If he wasn't such an excellent swordsman, I'd be tempted to stab him myself."

The lords continued to grumble and glare at the youngest lion. Jaime instinctively put himself between the lords and his brother. The Lannisters and the Dornishmen studied each other coldly. Balon stepped between them and calmly addressed Griff.

"Your Grace, shall I have the children brought in now?" Balon asked, keeping his head straight but following the dragons with his gaze.

"Children?" Brienne repeated.

Griff nodded to Balon before turning to Brienne. He took her arm and led her away from the men. Brienne looked past him. Podrick watched them with concern but the dragons were still wandering around the room, more interested in the cavernous hall than the stiff lords who watched them with fear and calculation in their eyes. Jaime frowned, also watching the five, but said nothing. The lords reformed their group, whispering amongst themselves. Brienne looked back to Griff.

"So soon?" Brienne demanded, trying to keep her voice even.

Griff's expression softened. "Brienne, we discussed this. The children will be safer and better cared for in Dorne."

"But Ela and the dragons," she protested. "They'll miss her."

Unspoken was how much _she_ would miss the little baby, too. Ela was gentle and sweet and far too strong for a child so young. The little girl had survived abandonment, starvation and a short life of abuse and neglect. Yet she still had a sweet disposition and a resilient nature. Griff's expression softened as he leaned closer to Brienne. She knew her understood how much the thought of separating from the babe upset her. He rubbed her arms comfortingly.

"Ela will be happy in Dorne," Griff assured. "We'll get her once it's safe for her to return, I promise."

Brienne's reply was cut off when the main doors opened. Two Lannister guards came in carrying Cersei's limp body between them. Her eyes were open but unseeing. The guards set her on her feet just inside the doors. Cersei swayed then crumpled to the floor.

"Cersei!" Jaime sprinted across the room to his sister.

Tyrion gasped and also hurried across the length of the great hall to his siblings. He looked back at the Dornish lords who walked down the hall to Cersei at a more sedate pace. Brienne turned away from Griff to grab Catren and Allwyn, the most excitable dragons. Seeing her, Podrick quickly grabbed Gallan. They needn't have bothered. The dragons barely glanced at Cersei. They weren't interested in or threatened by the former Queen of Westeros.

"What happened to her?" Jaime knelt beside his sister's limp body and pulled her into his arms.

"Zaldrīzoti, māzigon naejot issa," Griff called, drawing the uninterested dragons to his side.

Brienne, with Podrick close at her heels, also hurried across the vast hall. The lords, taller and longer-legged than Tyrion, reached Cersei and Jaime at the same time the youngest lion did. They surveyed the former queen with satisfaction.

"Her punishment began last night," Anders smirked. "She broke in mere hours. You breed them weak here. A Dornishwoman would have survived for weeks."

Brienne was shocked by the former queen's appearance. Cersei's expression was more remote and disconnected than even after discovering the depth of Qyburn's vengeful machinations. She was still as beautiful as ever but so still she could have been carved from marble. Her eyes were open but blank, as if she were seeing something inside herself instead of the world around her. Cersei wore the same lavish gown she'd worn yesterday but it was wrinkled and stained, her short hair disarrayed. What had happened to Cersei that she was now like this?

"Ellaria survived for months," Manfrey commented. "We put Cersei in Ellaria's cell so she could spend the night with the ghosts of those she'd murdered in her madness and thirst for power."

"Ellaria had Qyburn giving her strengthening tonics," Brienne reminded. "That's why she was able to survive."

Manfrey looked thoughtful. "Perhaps we should ask for his mixture. Then maybe this feeble queen will last long enough for a fitting punishment."

"You're animals," Jaime snarled, holding Cersei's limp body against him.

"So says the man who murdered his own kin and helpless children to fuck his sister," Daeron sneered.

Jaime's face flushed but he had no reply. He pulled Cersei closer to him, as if to try to protect her, and glared up at the lords in helpless rage. Tyrion, who'd been looking at Cersei without expression, now turned to Jaime with sympathy.

Tyrion put his hand on his brother's arm. "Jaime, we agreed to do this, to trade one life for thousands of lives."

Jaime angrily shrugged off his brother's hand. "Look at what they did to her! Is she even still alive?"

"Yes," Andres answered. "She's still alive. We only broke her mind, not her body. We didn't realize she was so pathetic."

Jaime faced flushed even darker with his impotent fury. Brienne looked at Podrick who stared at the former queen with wide, shocked eyes. He looked away to meet Brienne's gaze. They exchanged grimaces. War was a truly ugly event but preventing it wasn't much better. Jaime had agreed, they had _all_ agreed, to give Cersei and Gregor to the Dornish in exchange for a decrease in hostilities. Cersei's poor decisions and ruthless ambition had nearly brought all of Westeros to destruction. The Seven Kingdoms couldn't afford a war against Dorne while the northern armies, the Dothraki, the Unsullied and the Ironborn prepared to battle against the Army of the Dead.

Another group of guards came in, straining to pull a cart, covered with a sheet, into the Throne Room. They struggled with their burden into the center of the great hall. The men put the cart handles down as gently as possible but the heavy weight still clattered against the polished marble. In doing so, the cart tipped forward and the sheet covering the cart's content fell away. The guards bowed and hurried out of the hall, as if trying to leave as quickly as possible.

Brienne went closer to see what was on the cart. She gasped and stumbled away from what she saw. The dragons immediately hissed and puffed, sensing her horror. The lords, still surrounding the Lannisters, immediately crouched down, trying to make themselves smaller targets. Ardayn and Serdun screeched as they flew across the room to Brienne's defense. Only there was nothing to defend her from, except the unmoving horror strapped to the cart. Given the size and bulk, it had to be Gregor Clegane but the face and body were straight out of the stories told to terrify children.

His skin was the dull grey of death, covered with wounds, some open, some stitched shut, all oozing a foul odor worse than death and decay. Gregor's eyes were shut but his chest still rose and fell, releasing more of the noxious, putrid puss with every motion. Part of the knight's jaw was missing and deep gouges were cut into his throat.

"Is that...is that Ser Gregor?" Podrick squeaked, stumbling to Brienne's side.

"Yeah, that's the cunt," Sandor affirmed.

Brienne turned to the doors. Gregor's younger brother, the first victim of his cruelty, stood just inside the open doorway. Sunlight shone on the burn scars covering the side of his face. He'd received those scars when Gregor had held his face to a fire. Sandor looked at his older brother with visible loathing.

"Are you sure?" Podrick asked, eyes still wide with horror.

He, Brienne and Griff hurriedly gathered the dragons to hold them away from the cart. The five continued to hiss but allowed themselves to guided away from the abomination. The lords shifted the other way, away from the dragons, equally repulsed by the sight of the former Kingsguard. If she couldn't see his chest rise, Brienne would have been sure he was dead.

"Yeah, I know some of the scars and what's left of his face." Sandor crossed the hall to the cart. He looked at his brother and sneered. "They tell me you suffer every day. That ex-maester took out part of your throat so he wouldn't have to hear you screaming in agony." He paused, looking over the monstrous creature his older brother had become. "You still deserve to suffer more."

Sandor spat on his brother's body and turned away. Everyone was silent and still as they watched him cross the hall to the hidden servant's door. The sharp thud of the door slamming shut caused everyone to shudder. The dragons squawked and took to the air, circling around the room with furiously beating wings, looking for threats. The lords continued to crouch down to make themselves as small as possible. Jaime was already on his knees with Cersei in his arms while Tyrion was already small.

A soft cry came from the open doors. The dragons immediately came to the floor, searching for the source of the sound. Brienne gasped and looked to the horror of Gregor without armor. If looking at him sickened her, a grown, battle-hardened warrior, what would it do to a delicate babe who'd already experienced more trauma than any child should?

"Ela!" she cried, running to the cart. "The babies can't see this."

She and Podrick ran to the center of the room, both grabbing corners of the sheet and pulling it over Gregor just as Moqorro, with Ela in his arms, came into the Throne Room. He was followed closely by Balon, again carrying Ellaria, and the maester's assistants, all carrying the swaddled babies. Brienne, Podrick and Griff grabbed the dragons, keeping them from going to the babies and their terrified holders. The assistants and Moqorro shrank back from the five while Ellaria hid her face in Balon's neck.

Ela shrieked in joy and lunged for Brienne, almost launching herself out of the Red Priest's arms. Slowly, Brienne released Ardayn and Serdun. The dragons remained calm and flew at her back as she crossed the room. Moqorro watched the dragons and shook visibly but held his ground. Ela had no fear of the dragons and strained to reach Brienne. She accepted the slight weight and hugged the baby close. The babe was even stronger and more alert than yesterday, wrapping her skeletal arms around Brienne's neck.

"Brienne, the lords and I will take the other babies to the Dornish ship," Griff said gently. "We'll come back for Ela and Ellaria once they and the priest are settled."

Brienne nodded, unable to speak past the pressure in her throat. She knew Griff was taking the lords away so they wouldn't see how wrenching the separation would be for her. She pressed her face into Ela's soft, sweetly scented neck and inhaled deeply. How could a child dig so deeply into her heart after only a few days? What was the significance of this small babe? She knew the Gods were guiding her and had guided her to Ela. Was it just to save the babies or did Ela have a greater role to play?

The assistants, lords and Moqorro were all eager to leave the Throne Room but the dragons were not. She knelt and placed Ela on the floor so the five could sniff the babe, assure themselves she was well. Brienne looked up at Manfrey, the man who would be responsible for the babies' care. The castellan's eyes were wide with shock as he watched the dragons circle around the happy little girl. Ela fearlessly used Gallan and Allwyn to rise up to her feet.

"Please take good care of her, Ser Manfrey," Brienne requested. "Of all of them."

Manfrey could barely tear his gaze away from the little girl who'd so easily bonded with the dragons. He finally managed to look at Brienne. The castellan's expression was stark and tinged with fear. He nodded slowly.

"I'll guard her with my life, my Lady Ser," he vowed. "These children are under the protection of House Nymeros Martell. They will be safe."

"Catren, Ardayn, Serdun, māzigon naejot issa," Griff called quietly.

Reluctantly, the three dragons left Brienne and Ela to hover above Griff. Ela looked at them and cried sadly. Griff gave the baby a small smile and stepped aside to allow the lords and assistants to leave the room before him. They did so with alacrity, eager to leave the great hall even though Griff still had three dragons with him.

Griff was the last to leave. He smiled encouragingly at Brienne before he left, the dragons flying over his head. Ela, supported by Gallan and Allwyn, toddled after them. The guards stepped into the hallway and left the doors open, allowing Ela to watch the three dragons fly down at the hall above Griff's head. Brienne swallowed down the heavy lump in her throat, blinking hard to keep the sadness from gushing out of her eyes. Podrick looked at her with concern and moved closer to her side. Brienne forced herself to smile to assure him she was fine.

She took a deep breath and looked at the baby only to realize Ela, with her dragon guards, had crossed the threshold into the hallway. She hurried to retrieve the baby. Something, a mother's instinct or a flash of movement at the corner of her eye, caused her to turn her head as she reached the doors. Boros Blount, one of the disgraced Queensguard whom Tyrion had dismissed from Daenerys's service, stood just inside the closed side door, wearing his previous Queensguard armor, and holding a crossbow in his hands. Instantly, she understood what she was seeing.

"_Brienne, fire can't kill a dragon!" Griff caught her arm and dragged her away from the railing._

_She fought him. "No, but swords and arrows can!"_

Her exchange with Griff, so many months ago, when they'd fought off the pirate attack on the _Sea Keeper_, pounded in her head as a terrifying warning. Even as fear washed over her, she reacted instinctively to protect Gallan and Allwyn.

"Shut the door!" Brienne screamed at Podrick, as she grabbed the heavy door on her side.

Podrick, trained by her daily commands, complied instantly. He grabbed the door on his side and shoved it with an audible grunt. The doors shut just as two bolts lodged into the wood, exactly where the dragons' heads would have been if Ela hadn't led them out into the hallway. Brienne threw the bar into place, locking the doors, keeping the dragons and Ela safely out of the Throne Room.

She heard the dragons screech in fury but ignored them to face the threat in the great hall. Boros, Preston Greenfield, Osmund Kettleback and the two Queensguard, whose names she didn't know, had come into the room. All five wore their previous Queensguard armor and held crossbows, rage and death in their eyes, all prepared to kill the young dragons.

Suddenly Cersei, who'd been a dead weight in Jaime's arms until now, sprang to life. She pulled away from her brother, _Widow's Wail_ in her hand. Jaime tried to grab for his sword but Cersei swung it in a practiced arc, cutting into his good hand. Jaime snatched his hand back and rose to his feet.

"Cersei, what are you doing?" Jaime demanded.

"What I should have done from the very beginning," Cersei snarled. She swung the sword at Jaime again. "Ser Gregor, now!"

Gregor, who'd been as still as death until then, turned his head, his eyes open and glowing red with deadly intent. The former Queensguards advanced into the room. They still had crossbows in their hands. That was their first mistake. Their second was to forget that Balon and Brienne were seasoned warriors and former Kingsguards themselves, armed and able to react instinctively during an attack.

Balon, who'd hastily put Ellaria down, pulled out his sword even as he straightened. He stabbed it through the unfamiliar former Queensguard's unprotected neck. The crossbow fell from the guard's nerveless fingers as Balon caught him and turned to Preston, using the dead man's body as a shield as Preston shot his crossbow.

Pounding came from outside the main doors. Then thuds as if heavy objects were being thrown at the wood. The pounding didn't disguise the dragons' screeches, their fury raising their cries until they echoed even inside the Throne Room. The thudding sound echoed from the other doors, too. The wood shook from the assault but held firm. The former Queensguards had barred the doors from the inside, trapping Brienne, Jaime, Podrick, Ellaria and Balon in with Cersei and the disgraced Queensguard.

"Brienne!" Griff's voice could be heard clearly from the other side.

Brienne wasn't listening. She advanced on Boros, fury and bloodlust crackling like a halo around her. If she or Podrick had been even an instant slower, these disgraceful excuses for men might have killed her dragons, her gifts from the Gods. Boros dropped the empty crossbow and reached for his sword, but it was too late. Brienne slashed his throat open with deadly accuracy.

Podrick pulled her back as a bolt flew by, so close to her head that she felt the disturbance in the air. Jaime growled like the lion he was and brought his golden hand down on the man's wrist, breaking the bones with an audible snap, even through the guard's armor. The man cried out as Jaime smashed his golden hand into the former Queensguard's face.

Cersei ran to the cart and began slashing at Gregor's bonds. Gregor was so strong he didn't need her help. He sprang up, snapping the bonds and slid down the cart to the floor. Cersei tossed _Widow's Wail_ at her bodyguard's feet. Gregor was strong but his bulk worked against him. He reached down for the sword but Brienne was faster. She advanced on the undefeated warrior, kicking _Widow's Wail_ away from him.

"Kill them!" Cersei screamed. "Kill them all!"

"Brienne!" Griff's voice, even more frantic that before, rose above the screeching of the dragons.

Brienne couldn't spare the energy to answer him. She jumped back to avoid Gregor's punch, and slashed out with _Oathkeeper_. The blade just missed Gregor who responded by kicking Brienne in her midsection. Her distance from the knight saved her from broken ribs but the impact forced the air out of her lungs and weakened her grip on _Oathkeeper_. She turned away and took the next kick in her side. The impact was enough to throw her to the floor, _Oathkeeper_ tumbling out of her hands.

"Kill them!" Cersei screamed again. "Kill them all!"

Gregor raised his foot over Brienne's head. He was still wearing heavy boots with thick soles. Brienne curled into a ball and threw her hands over her head, trying to cushion the impact of having her unprotected head stomped. A growl made her look up. Sandor flew over her head and plowed his shoulder into his brother's chest. The impact was so great, it shoved Gregor back several feet.

Brienne looked around frantically. Cersei now had another sword in her hand and was trying to get to Ellaria, who cowered helplessly on the floor. Podrick stood over Ellaria, using his own sword to hold the former queen back from her prey.

"Die!" Cersei screamed, rage and madness glittering in her wildfire green eyes. "You'll all die! Kill them! Kill them all!"

Nearby, Jaime delivered a final blow to the man he was fighting. He grabbed the fallen man's sword just in time to block a swing from Osmond. But Osmond had two good, strong hands, armor and desperation on his side. He drove Jaime to his knees with his blows. Suddenly Bronn was at Jaime's side, his sword out and already dripping with blood.

"You highborn arses," Bronn snarled as he battled Osmond away from Jaime. "Didn't think to block the servant's entrance, did you?"

Brienne sat up as her lungs finally began to take in air. Balon was still fighting Preston, two dead Queensguard at their feet. A motion above her caught Brienne's attention. The heavy cloth covering the largest stained-glass window, the one that contained the roaring lion sigil, fluttered though there was no breeze. Underneath it, the formerly golden lion was turning blood red. She stared at it for a moment in blank shock then realized what was happening. The dragons, unable to reach her through the heavy doors, were firing at the window, melting the glass.

Suddenly, the main doors burst open. Griff, with Catren and Allwyn above his head, Tyrion and the Dornish lords poured into the room. The new _Sword of the Morning_ unsheathed _Dawn_. As soon as the magical sword cleared the scabbard it flew out of Griff's hand. _Dawn_, the sword that selected its own wielder, that was rumored to have been forged from the heart of a fallen star, streaked across the _entire_ length of the hall. Brienne followed its projection and saw it was headed for Gregor and Sandor, who were both viciously raining blows on each other. Brienne threw herself at Sandor, knocking him away from his brother.

Seconds later, _Dawn_ pierced Gregor's chest with such force it lifted the knight off his feet. He fell with a mighty thud just as the stained-glass window shattered, sending a burst of burning cloth and red glass shards to shower into the Throne Room. Serdun, Ardayn and Gallan flew into the hall. Serdun and Gallan rushed to Brienne while Ardayn unleashed a stream of dragonfire on Gregor. The knight writhed and tried to rolled but _Dawn_ held him fast for Ardayn's relentless assault. Gregor made fierce animal noises in his throat, unable to scream, as a stench worse than death and decay befouled the air.

Sandor, his eyes wide with fear and horror stumbled away from his brother's flailing and rapidly disintegrating body. _Dawn_, now that it no longer had Gregor's bulk to hold it upright, tumbled into the smoldering remains of the former knight. Laying in the sooty darkness, the magical sword glowed even whiter with life and purpose.

A gleam of steel shone in the sunlight pouring in from the now uncovered window. Brienne, with Serdun and Gallan flying close to her, saw their Valyrian steel swords, _Oathkeeper_ and _Widow's Wail_, under Gregor's blackened remains. She looked up when she heard a harsh grunt, just in time to see Bronn yank his sword out of Osmond's now dead body. She looked over to check on Balon who was breathing heavily, his own bloody sword in his hand, the Queensguards dead around him.

"No!" Cersei screamed. "You'll die! You'll all die!"

She held her sword in a two-handed grip and rushed towards Podrick and Ellaria. Podrick, still dumbstruck at seeing Ardayn burn Gregor, was too slow to react in his own defense.

"Podrick!" Brienne ran down the hall, Gallan and Serdun flying over her head.

She was too far to reach her squire in time. Just as Cersei's blade was about to cut into Podrick, he threw himself to the floor, covering Ellaria. Cersei stumbled past them then stopped herself and turned around, tears, rage and madness glittering in her eyes Sandor growled again and grabbed Cersei by her neck. Cersei cried out as Sandor wrapped his hands about her pale white throat and shook her, choking the life from her. She retaliated by striking at him with her sword. Sandor released her and staggered away, yanking the sword from her hand in the process. He held his torn side, blood pouring over his hands.

Cersei's eyes bulged out of her head and she clawed desperately at her throat. But, after months of ingesting Qyburn's poison, her nails were too fragile to rip it open, to give her the air her crushed throat could not. Instead her nails tore off, her bleeding hands leaving streaks in the bruises already rising on the damaged, weakened skin. Agony showed clearly in the former Queen's eyes. Brienne gasped as she halted, Gallan and Serdun hovering at her head, and helplessly watched Cersei suffocate. The former queen's face drained of color, her lips taking on a blue tinge, as she tried desperately to draw in air.

Cersei stumbled towards Brienne. "You…" she managed to gasp, rage and madness burning in her desperate wildfire eyes.

Serdun and Gallan shrieked in fury. Brienne grabbed them but not quickly enough. The two released enough dragonfire to set Cersei's gown alight. The former queen was still on her feet and stumbled around as flames ran up her dress.

"No!" Jaime cried out in horror.

Brienne turned to see him grab his sword from underneath Gregor's remains. The sword, now larger and heavier than it had been before, threw him off balance, causing Jaime to stumble. Brienne's eyes widened as she stared at the strangely bigger sword. As Jaime ran closer, she looked at the sword and understood what had occurred.

"_Valyrian steel is a special material, stronger and more resilient than ordinary steel," Daenerys noted. "Some say only dragonfire, blended with great magic, can forge such a mighty instrument."_

She remembered Daenerys saying those words to her the night she'd called Brienne 'Valyrian steel.' Jaime's sword was so heavy because Ardayn's dragonfire had fused the two swords together. _Oathkeeper_ and _Widow's Wail _were once again a single sword. Dragonfire, blended with the Gods' great magic, had re-forged House Stark's greatsword, _Ice_.

Jaime used his golden hand to steady the greatsword. He stumbled to his sister's burning body. Cersei couldn't speak but the suffering in her eyes was too much for her brother. He pressed his golden hand to her breast. The appendage, cold, rigid and unable to transmit sensation, made Jaime incapable of feeling the flames licking against it. Using his golden hand to balance the blade, he plunged _Ice_ into his sister's, _his_ _beloved's_, still beating heart. The sword emerged from Cersei's burning back and bursts into flames.

It was too much for the dragons. All five rose and fired on Cersei. Suddenly, Jaime's golden hand, still pressed to Cersei's breast, flung back as if controlled by a force beyond his control. He released _Ice_ as his golden hand dragged him away from his sister's burning body and tossed him to the floor. Immediately, Tyrion and Bronn began to stomp on his chest and legs to beat out the flames licking at Jaime's clothes.

"Zaldrīzoti, māzigon naejot issa!" Brienne cried. "Zaldrīzoti, māzigon naejot issa, _please_!"

But her pleas went unheard. The dragons would not spare anyone who threatened their mother. They continued to fire and didn't stop until nothing remained of Cersei Lannister, the former Queen of the Seven Kingdoms, but ashes.

And a burning red sword.

Author's Note: I'm sorry I didn't post last week. The American Thanksgiving Holiday started early and ended late for my family. I didn't have much time to write. For those who celebrated it, I hope you had a safe and wonderful holiday.

So…what do you think? Did you expect the Stark's greatsword to be reforged? Does it mean more than the resurgence of House Stark?


	41. Ice Keeper

The Keeper

Chapter 41 – Ice Keeper

"Zaldrīzoti, māzigon naejot issa!" Brienne pleaded again. "Zaldrīzoti, māzigon naejot issa, _please_!"

It was no use. The dragons would not come to her or calm. They left the ashes surrounding the burning red sword to fly in angry, wide circles, screeching madly, keeping Brienne, Podrick and Griff under their protection. The heightened emotions in the room: Brienne and Podrick's blood rush, Griff's frantic terror, Sandor's physical pain, Balon and Bronn's adrenaline overload, Jaime's grief, Tyrion's torment and the Dornish lords and Ellaria's fear mingled together with the dragons' own fury at almost losing loved ones. Their cries reverberated around the room until it sounded like a hundred angry dragons instead of only five.

Podrick stumbled closer to Brienne, pressing his hands over his ears to block out the din. "My Lady Ser—"

His words were cut off when Brienne grabbed him in a fierce hug. Brienne shut her eyes but the images her mind replayed did nothing to calm her. Podrick had been seconds away from death. Only the Gods' mercy, and the reflexes that had improved due to their sword practice, had kept him from being taken from her, from falling victim to Cersei's sword.

"Podrick, are you alright?" Brienne demanded fiercely.

"Ye…yes, my Lady Ser," Podrick gasped. "But I can't…I can't breathe."

Brienne gasped and released him. Podrick had only taken a single deep breath before the dragons dove for them, coming to the floor to circle around them. Catren landed first, then Allwyn, Gallan, Ardayn and finally Serdun, all still screeching. They puffed and extended their wings to their fullest, making sure everyone knew they were ready to kill anyone else who meant harm to their family. They were so upset they didn't realize no one left in the Throne Room was an enemy. Brienne knelt then pulled Gallan and Ardayn, the dragons closest to her, into her arms, hugging them as fiercely as she'd held Podrick a moment earlier. Griff repeated the gesture with Serdun and Catren while Podrick sat on the floor to pull Allwyn into his lap.

Held in the warmth of familiar embraces, the dragons began to calm. They stopped screeching and turned to the comfort of the humans holding them. Brienne understood their fear and relief. She was feeling the same over possibly losing Allwyn and Gallan to the former Queensguards' crossbows and almost losing Podrick to Cersei's madness. But they were all alive, all safe, thanks to their instincts and the innocent actions of a sweet, resilient street child.

"Ela." Brienne turned to Griff beside her. "Ela led Gallan and Allwyn out into the hallway. I went after them to get her. That's when I saw Ser Boros with his crossbow. If it wasn't for Ela…"

Brienne couldn't finish her sentence. But the words hung heavy in the air. If Ela, the child the Gods' had taken her to, hadn't walked out into the hallway, the dragons would have still been in the Throne Room. They might have fallen prey to arrows that could pierce their still-developing scales. Griff's expression, already grim, tightened. Catren wound itself around him, rubbing its head frantically against his silver-blond hair. Serdun was held tightly under his other arm, Griff's hold on the green dragon white-knuckled tight. Unlike Catren, who was still jittery, Serdun was quiet and still. The green dragon's neck elongated to press against Griff's body and it held its head against Griff's heartbeat.

Brienne turned her head in the other direction to look at Podrick. Allwyn's reactions were a mixture of Serdun and Catren's. The blue-grey dragon had wrapped its tail around Podrick's waist and it was pressed against Podrick's body, its head hidden against his neck. Podrick soothed Allwyn with visibly shaky hands, betraying how unsettled his emotions were, too. Brienne looked down at Ardayn and Gallan, their heads on her shoulders, unprotestingly pressed against her, even though her grip was so tight her arms had begun to ache.

"Ela was the reason the dragons left my side," Brienne continued. "She is the only other person they would follow. The Gods knew Cersei and her supporters would try to kill the dragons. Ela is the reason they were in the hallway, on the other side of the doors, and remained unharmed. I thought I was saving Ela but she saved Allwyn and Gallan."

Griff's face tightened and a tremor shook his body. He lowered his head to hide his expression in Serdun's neck, Catren stilling against him. Serdun rubbed its head against Griff's, as if offering its father comfort. Griff took a deep breath that set his shoulders and looked up, his face now composed.

"The smallest of warriors can become the greatest of heroes," Griff said softly. "As you say, the Gods guide you to those they need to protect us all during the Long Night."

"Young Ela is already a fierce daughter of Dorne. I have given you my word I will protect her with my life, my Lady Ser." Manfrey's voice was steady even as he continued to crouch close to the floor. "The child will be safe in Sunspear."

"Safe?" Griff snarled.

He rose from his knees, fury crackling around him, Catren still wrapped around his body. Serdun blinked and looked over at Brienne as Griff rose to his feet. Brienne and Podrick both held out their arms for the green dragon. Serdun flew over to settle between them, allowing Brienne and Podrick to shift closer, pressing the dragon securely between themselves. They exchanged uneasy glances before watching Griff's progress across the hall.

Griff stalked over to the lords, so visibly angry, he was shaking. The lords shrank down even more. Catren flared out its wings, its brown color and red markings blending with Griff's brown leather jacket with a gold spear piercing the red sun. Both leaders, one of dragons and the other of men, focused their rage on the Dornish lords. The pair breathed in time, their coloring and motions matching, almost as if the dragon and the blood of the dragon were blending into a single, fierce creature.

"You, Ser Manfrey, demanded we put Cersei in the black cells," Griff reminded him harshly, wrapping his arms around Catren. "You couldn't wait to return to Dorne before taking your vengeance. That left Cersei near Gregor Clegane, to plot with him and her agents to harm the dragons. Now you dare tell me you'll keep Ela safe? Your poor judgement nearly cost me my children and their mother."

"It wasn't his fault, your Grace." Brienne didn't try to get up, knowing the dragons wouldn't release her. "Cersei had many people loyal to her, from Queensguard to servants. She must have been planning with them for several days."

"It _is_ his fault that he was fooled by Cersei," Griff spat. "She looked helpless and pretended to be weak. He, idiot that he was, fell for her tricks." Griff's gaze went to Ellaria. "Only a fool judges a person on their theatrics without gathering true facts."

Ellaria, who was huddled on the floor near the Dornish lords, paled. The horror was clear in her eyes as she realized Griff hadn't been swayed by her tears and acting. Her gaze began to drift towards Manfrey before she caught herself. Instead she looked at the floor.

"Your Grace," she spoke in her delicate, musical voice, "I humbly thank you, once again, for saving my life."

"I will not hear you," Griff snarled. "I'm no fool. I understand who you are."

Ellaria flushed and hunch over, looking down at the floor. Griff's icy glare shifted from Ellaria back to Manfrey. Catren, still wrapped around Griff, picked up his spiked emotions and hissed at the castellan. Manfrey exchanged tense glances with Anders. The men shifted away, watching Catren instead of Griff, forgetting both dragons were equally dangerous.

"Ser Manfrey, you're a seasoned warrior yet you fell for the simplest of tricks," Griff pointed out. "How can I trust you to lead Dorne in my name while I guide the Seven Kingdoms?"

The other lords, many of whom weren't party to Manfrey and Ellaria's schemes, also turned to look at the castellan of Sunspear. Ned even shifted closer to Griff, despite the threat of a still-angry Catren in his arms. Manfrey, seeing his standing and power base eroding before his eyes, went very still.

"I allowed my eagerness to take revenge on the Lannisters to cloud my judgement, your Grace," Manfrey admitted. He looked directly into Griff's eyes. "I will not fail you again, I swear it."

"No, you will not," Griff agreed. "I won't tolerate such a mistake again. Now, your stupidity has cost you your vengeance. Cersei Lannister and Gregor Clegane are dead. Your revenge died with them. There will be no more talk of giving Lannisters to Dorne to pay past debts."

Tyrion, who had been standing consolingly at Jaime's side, looked up, his eyes widening with surprise. Previously, Griff had only agreed to spare Tyrion and Jaime for the time being. Now, the Prince of Dorne had officially ended House Martell's blood feud with House Lannister. Griff was trying to move Dorne past the bitter past to focus on their perilous future. A future they would only survive if they all banded together to fight the Army of the Dead.

Brienne looked from Griff to the red sword in Cersei's ashes. Could this be a weapon, perhaps _the_ weapon of prophecy, that would lead them out of the Long Night? She tried to shift closer to see it better but the dragons hissed. Griff and Catren immediately turned to face them. Griff's tense muscles and Catren's flared wings were clear indications of their concern.

"What is it?" Griff demanded.

Brienne stroked Gallan and Ardayn, as Podrick hugged Allwyn and Serdun. They were as tense and vigilant as Griff and Catren. The dragons – all six of them – were on high alert, still fearful after the sudden attack. Even the smallest disturbance set them on edge.

"We're fine. The dragons are still tense," Brienne assured Griff.

Sandor, who was on his knees near the main doors, shifted and grunted in his breath. Brienne looked over at him and gasped. He was half-leaning, half-slumped against a pillar a few meters away. His face was heavily battered, the lower part of his shirt soaked in blood and sweat and the hand he had pressed to his damaged side was red with blood. Balon glanced over at Brienne and Podrick, or rather at the dragons huddled around them, then slowly rose to his knees.

"Your Grace," the knight began.

"Yes." Griff pressed Catren's head to his shoulder. "Go to him, Ser Balon. He needs to be taken to the maester."

Balon hurried across the hall to Sandor while Brienne and Podrick continued to hold the dragons. They were calming down now, still alert but no longer clinging so tightly. In response, many of the lords relaxed and began to slowly rise to their feet. Bronn moved closer to Jaime, putting his hand on Jaime's other shoulder. Near the doors, Sandor grunted as Balon helped him rise.

Griff walked to the center of the room, near the cart that had been used to bring Gregor into the Throne Room. He studied the torn straps, proof of Gregor's strength. Then he turned to survey Balon, Sandor, Bronn and Jaime. Griff's eyes were dark and fathomless, almost black, testimony to the depth of his horror and receding fear.

"Ser Balon, Ser Jaime, Ser Bronn, Sandor Clegane," Griff began. Then he looked at Brienne and Podrick and added. "Lady Ser Brienne and Podrick Payne. You protected those who are most precious to me. I will not forget your service."

Though he had included Brienne and Podrick in his address, Griff looked at Bronn, Jaime, Balon and Sandor as he spoke. Bronn nodded but Jaime was still lost inside himself, staring at the ashes that had been his beloved sister. Balon, who was assisting Sandor, also nodded politely. Sandor looked at the bodies still littering the Throne Room floor. His face twisted between a scowl and a grimace of pain.

"They were cunts, the lot of them," Sandor growled. "The fuckers were stupid enough to attack dragons. Then what? Those dragons would burn us all if their mother died."

Almost reflexively, Griff shifted to stand in front of Brienne as Catren hissed again. The lords looked from Griff to Brienne, their eyes dark and knowing. Brienne's cheeks flushed with color. Griff had named her and Podrick in his address, but they all knew Griff had acknowledged the men for protecting her as much as for protecting Allwyn and Gallan. She was Griff's sworn sword but, when she needed protection, these were the men who'd fought for _her_ life.

"Your Grace, I'll take him now," Balon spoke. "Sandor's cut is deep. It needs to be stitched shut."

"I've had worse," Sandor insisted. "It's just a cut."

Still, he allowed the courtly knight to assist him to the doors. Beyond them, Brienne could see the palace guards replace their swords into their belts. They were surrounding the maester's assistants and the babies they held. Moqorro was with them, Ela safe in his arms. The little girl, seeing Brienne and the dragons, tried to launch herself out of the Red Priest's arms. She cried out, attracting the dragons' attentions. They turned to find the baby. Griff beckoned Moqorro to join them in the Throne Room. The priest took a deep breath then came to join them while the assistants, with the other babies, turned to follow after Balon and Sandor.

Moqorro bowed to Griff and looked over at the red sword. The flames had died out but the sword still glowed red. The dragons finally allowed Brienne to leave their side and go to the Red Priest. After bringing Ela to the dragons, they calmed noticeably. Allwyn left Podrick's lap to sniff the baby. Gallan settled on Ela's other side, keeping her safe and warm. Brienne left the dragons with Podrick and went to Tyrion, Bronn and Jaime, near Cersei's remains. She knelt beside Jaime, who was staring at the cooling sword as if mesmerized.

"Ser Jaime," she said gently.

"Why is it red?" Jaime finally turned to look at her, his green eyes still unfocused.

She frowned and turned to study the re-forged greatsword. Tyrion, who had moved closer to the sword to allow Brienne a place at Jaime's side, provided the answer. He bent down, studying the blade.

"The rubies in the swords' hilts have melted," Tyrion explained. He straightened to face Brienne. "_Oathkeeper_ had several smaller rubies in its hilt and in the lion's eyes. _Widow's Wail_ had two large rubies. The dragons' fire melted them and they flowed into the ripples in the Valyrian steel."

Brienne left Jaime's side to study the sword herself. Griff deposited Catren with Podrick and Ela then came to join her. The lords moved closer but still remained a safe distance away from the dragons.

"The swords didn't melt together perfectly," Brienne noted. "_Widow's Wail_ was smaller than _Oathkeeper_. See how there's space where _Widow's Wail's_ pommel ends and _Oathkeeper's_ begins."

Tyrion moved further up, near the tip of the rejoined blade. "The tips aren't even, either. There's a notch where the two swords didn't align."

Brienne looked to where he pointed. The space between the two swords formed a V shape, which gave the greatsword a forked tip. Jaime looked at the blade sadly.

"The lion and the stag are gone," he noted quietly, his voice hollow.

Brienne's eyes widened as she stared at the sword's odd double hilt. The gold had softened and spread under the dragons' prolonged assault, blurring the lion's head on _Oathkeeper_ and the stag on _Widow's Wail_ until they were unrecognizable. Brienne shuddered at seeing the fall of House Lannister and House Baratheon echo in the cooling metal.

"Is it _Lightbringer_?" Podrick asked hesitantly.

Brienne's eyes widened. She looked from the sword to Griff. He looked back at her with equal grim wonder. Brienne knew the Gods were guiding them, leading them to the weapons and the warriors they would need to battle the Army of the Dead. Was this sword the weapon that could kill the Night King?

"There will come a day after a long summer when the stars bleed and the cold breath of darkness falls heavy on the world," Tyrion quoted. "In this dread hour a warrior shall draw from the fire a burning sword. And that sword shall be _Lightbringer_, the Red Sword of Heroes, and he who clasps it shall be Azor Ahai come again, and the darkness shall flee before him."

"But it's not burning anymore," Brienne pointed out. "How can it be _Lightbringer_ without a warrior pulling it from the flames?"

"Remember the legend of Azor Ahai," Griff reminded her. "He tempered his sword three times. First in water, then in the heart of a lion, and finally in the heart of his beloved."

Ned came closer, joining the group. He looked over at the dragons, now relaxed with Podrick and Ela with them. The dragons looked back at him calmly, knowing the young Lord of Starfall was not a threat to their family. Ned relaxed visibly and turned his attention to the sword.

"Cersei was definitely Ser Jaime's beloved but the sword wasn't tempered in water and a lion," Ned said. "Nor was it forged. It already existed."

"It was re-forged and Brienne did temper it," Griff contradicted. "Brienne carried _Oathkeeper_, the larger part of the sword, into the Disputed Lands. She fought lions with it. She also dove into the sea with _Oathkeeper_, while fighting pirates. The water was warmed by dragonfire and blood. She tempered her part of the sword."

"But her part wasn't enough." Ned's eyes widened, understanding Griff's point. "The sword had to be whole before it could be properly tempered. Ardayn rejoined the parts, Ser Jaime tempered it, then the dragons strengthened it with their dragonfire and magic."

"Does that mean Jaime is Azor Ahai?" Tyrion asked. "Is that why the Gods dragged him away from Cersei's burning body? Jaime is the Last Hero reborn? He's the one who'll save us all from the Long Night?"

Jaime turned to stare at his brother. "Last Hero? The Gods dragged me away?"

Tyrion went back to his brother's side. "Yes. After you plunged the sword into Cersei's heart, your golden hand flew up and _dragged_ you away from her."

"Dragged?" Jaime repeated again, disbelief clear in his eyes.

"Aye, it did," Bronn confirmed. "I was once caught by a nasty lord with my hand on his lady's breast. I could have used your golden hand to drag me away from his heavy fist."

"Bronn," Tyrion hissed. "Shut up!"

Bronn shrugged but his salty tale had finally gotten through to Jaime. He stared at his golden hand as if he'd never seen it before. Brienne gasped as he held it up. The top of the hand, where the thumb and forefinger were, was as finely shaped as before. But the bottom of the golden piece, at the pinky side, which had been against Cersei's burning body, had melted and cooled, now misshaped and oddly flat.

"It doesn't hurt," Jaime reminded her, seeing the horror in her eyes. "I can't feel it."

Despite herself, Brienne felt a wave of relief wash over her. She knew the golden hand wasn't an actual part of Jaime's body. He hadn't felt Cersei's body burning against it nor had he suffered when the appendage melted. Even the scorch marks on his Lannister uniform looked minor. Still, she couldn't hold back the memories of Jaime after he lost his sword hand. The pain, shock and blood loss had nearly killed him. Only her bullying and the promise of returning to his beloved Cersei had kept him alive during that horrible time.

"Ser Jaime, I told you, repeatedly, that you were under the Gods' protection," Brienne reminded him gently. "You could not have survived all you've been through without their protection. They need you, _we_ need you, to fight in the Great War. Once again, when your life was in peril, they intervened to save you. They used your golden hand, an inanimate object, to drag you away from the flames."

The Dornish lords, who'd been listening intently even while keeping their distance, were all staring at Jaime. Their expressions ranged from shock to disbelief and even disgust. Manfrey's mouth curled in distaste while Dearon snorted.

"The Kingslayer is Azor Ahai, the Last Hero, reborn? This dishonorable cripple? Then we are all doomed," Anders sneered.

"There are many ways men can be dishonorable, Lord Anders," Brienne said quietly. "Some choose to favor the wrong love. Others kill innocents to satisfy their own desires." She held his gaze. "But honor can be regained and heroes can emerge from the worst of circumstances. If Jon Snow is correct, then we'll soon endure a second Long Night and must fight against the darkness together."

"Azor Ahai and the Last Hero may not have been the same person," Griff cautioned. "The stories of Azor Ahai are told in Essos. He was supposed to have thrust his blade into a monster, causing his sword to burst into the flames. The Last Hero is said to have helped defeat the Others during the last Long Night. Neither worked alone, both became heroes because they had no choice. The days of putting our egos and personal goals before our combined survival have ended. Now we must join together and defend all of Westeros."

Jaime stared at Griff, shock plain in his wildfire green eyes. The Prince of Dorne, who'd made no secret of this hatred of the elder Lannister lion, was almost defending him. Brienne smiled at Griff. She had been right about her king. He was hot-tempered but he was also just. No matter a man's faults, Griff didn't begrudge men their truths or hard-earned victories.

"Ser Davos also warned us of joining prophecies," Podrick added. "Remember, he told us how the red witch, Melisandre, blended the stories of Azor Ahai with those of the prince who was promised. She thought they were the same man. She burned innocent people, including Princess Shireen, trying to make Stannis Baratheon into the prince who was promised."

"Melisandre," Brienne growled.

Even now, the memories of the Red Priestess's shadow demon murdering King Renly caused a chill to slide down Brienne's spine and goosebumps to rise on her arms. Faith could steady men, such as her belief in the Gods' guidance. Misplaced faith, however, could lead to devastating results, kill kings and topple kingdoms. She was distracted from her thoughts by Moqorro's deep frown.

"Do you know Melisandre?" she demanded.

The Red Priest nodded gravely. "Yes, my Lady Ser. Her faith is true but her judgement is quick."

"Her judgement is not only quick, but false," Brienne lashed out.

The dragons, picking up on her spiked emotions, rose from their comfortable positions beside Podrick and Ela. Ardayn and Serdun separated from the group to fly to Brienne. Catren and Gallan went to Griff's side while Allwyn eased itself out from under Ela's hand. Podrick pulled the babe into his lap as Allwyn stationed itself in front of the pair.

Moqorro watched the dragon's movements and swallowed visibly. "My Lady Ser, our Lord guides but many do not have the knowledge to interpret his visions."

"That's what Kinvara said, too," Podrick agreed. "She said 'No, men and women make mistakes, not our Lord,' my Lady Ser."

The priest's eyes widened and his facial tattoos suddenly looked darker red, as if the blood had flushed into his face under the cover of his velvety dark skin. His breathing quickened as he looked from Brienne to Podrick then back again. Podrick's remarks had alarmed the Red Priest.

"You know Kinvara?" the priest asked.

Brienne nodded. "Yes, Podrick and I met her in Essos. Do you know her?"

Moqorro also nodded. "She is the High Priestess of the Red Temple of Volantis, the First Servant of the Lord of Light, the highest of our faith. Her words are our Lord's words."

"She said she had a vision for me," Brienne admitted.

Moqorro was so startled by her admission that his lips parted as he stared at her. The chill swept over her again. She looked down to see Serdun and Ardayn sitting beside her, looking up at the Red Priest with focused intensity. Moqorro didn't seem to notice them but everyone else did. The lords shifted away while Bronn and Tyrion tugged on Jaime, still kneeling by Cersei's ashes, urging him out of the dragons' fire range.

"What did she see?" the priest demanded, his voice deepening with his urgency.

"She said 'I see you floating between the sun and a star, running with wolves and lions, soaring with dragons and eagles, parting the blackest clouds and holding lighting in your hand.' She told me I had a great destiny," Brienne recalled.

"She also said my Lady Ser was the light in the darkness," Podrick added.

He had Ela in his lap. The babe seemed to also sense the chill in the air because she sat quietly in his arms, snuggling close, not even reaching for Allwyn. The dragon had stationed itself in front of Podrick, putting itself between them and Brienne's tension. Allwyn sniffed the air, trying to find the source of its mother's rising agitation.

"Then it is so," Moqorro insisted. "Kinvara is the Flame of Truth, the Light of Wisdom. She tells no lies. What she sees will come to pass."

Another chill slid down Brienne's spine. It wasn't Moqorro's words or even the conviction in them that caused her blood to prick. Something was wrong. She looked around the room again, trying to determine what it was. Griff also seemed to pick up her sense of unease. He walked over to Gregor's remains, Catren and Gallan at his back. The dragons hissed at the burnt, blackened remains of the former Queensguard as Griff reached into the ashes to retrieve _Dawn_.

Brienne continued to search the room. Jaime, Tyrion and Bronn were standing together, not far from Cersei's ashes, but far enough away to be out of the dragons' fire range. The Dornish lords were also in a tight group, looking back at her with mingled confusion and concern clear in their tense postures. The Lannister guards, stationed outside the open main doors, looked around uneasily. They put their hands over the sword pommels, an involuntary act of self-protection. Podrick, with Ela in his lap, bent his head, soothing the little girl.

Once Podrick bent down, Brienne saw Boros's dead body slumped against the wall behind him. But Boros hadn't been near the wall. He'd been at the side doors when Brienne had slit his throat for shooting a bolt at her dragons. Yes, she saw the pool of blood where his body had fallen. She also saw the trail of blood where Boros had dragged himself to the wall. Suddenly, Boros opened his eyes. They were an eerie, unnatural shade of blue.

Instantly, Brienne was transported back to the day in the Dragon Pit, when the Wight Jon had captured ran out of the wooden box and screamed its inhuman cry. _Wight. _Brienne reached for her sword but the scabbard was empty. Moving instinctively, she grabbed _Ice_ from the ashes. The greatsword was heavy, requiring both hands to hold it steady. Gritting her teeth at the unfamiliar weight, she lifted the sword and ran to Boros.

"Brienne!" Griff cried.

She ignored him, her entire focus on the unnaturally blue eyes staring at her. She thrust _Ice_ into Boros's blue eye and his corpse shattered, hitting her with shards of ice. The other former Queensguard also sat up. Brienne turned to them with _Ice_ but Ardayn and Serdun were ahead of her. They unleashed dragonfire on the unliving, moving corpses. The Wights screamed their nerve-shattering scream of the undead as the fire burned them inside their armor.

Brienne whirled around. "We're under attack! The dead are rising!"

For a shocked moment, everyone stared at her, open-mouthed. Despite Boros shattering and the other Queensguard burning, they couldn't fully grasp the enormity of the nightmare they were seeing. Tyrion was the first to recover.

"The graveyards! The capital is full of graveyards," he said, his voice rough with urgency. "If the dead are rising, they're rising _inside_ the city walls!"

Brienne stared at him in horror as everyone else broke free of the shock that had held them. The lords reached for their swords, not knowing the ordinary steel wouldn't protect them against the undead. Then she heard Lord Hayford's words in her ears.

"_We suffered because of the Lannisters. Now their men fill the tourney grounds and their imp stands at your side."_

The dead wouldn't just rise inside the city walls, they would rise around the tourney grounds. Many of the men defeated in previous tourneys were buried in the grounds past the tourney area, preferring or uncaringly left behind in mass graves near the field of honor. The Westerlands troops were out there now, without protection or weapons able to fight the Army of the Dead.

Brienne didn't hesitate a second longer. She ran out of the room, _Ice_ still in her hands, Ardayn and Serdun flying at her side. The dragons' fierce cries cleared their path as she ran out of the castle and through the streets. Her breath was burning in her lungs when she finally came to the Gold Cloaks stationed at the King's Gate. The guards immediately raised their hands, away from their sword belts, trying to show the dragons they were no threat to them.

"Clear the area. Call in the troops," Brienne gasped. "We need…we need to bring the army… inside the walls."

The Gold Cloaks looked confused but nodded and hurried out to the army. Brienne leaned against the wall, inside the gate's arch, catching her breath as Ardayn and Serdun guarded her. The merchants who'd set up stalls near the gates hurriedly began packing their wares as the Gold Cloaks called to the Westerlands troops. Brienne looked up and realized the chill she felt hadn't just been her nerves. The sky was now heavy with dark grey clouds and a sharp breeze made goosebumps rise on her arms again.

The first of the troops began to rush towards the gates. She hurried outside, beyond the wall, to watch the skies as the men clogged the gate. Ardayn and Serdun flew at her shoulders, their shrieks urging the men to run faster into the greater safety of the city walls. Soon the path was filled with the black leathers and red uniforms of the Westerlands army. Brienne continued to watch the gathering clouds, shivering in the chill winds they brought. Was the Night King coming? Had he raised Viserion and decided to attack the capital first?

An inhuman shriek grabbed her attention. She looked to the rise past the tourney grounds for the source. There! Several Westerlands soldiers were using their swords to hack at the inhuman creatures emerging from the ground. These Wights were even a greater horror than the one Jon Snow had captured. The bodies, already damaged from injuries sustained on the field of honor, were barely held together with thin layers of skin and muscle, with bone pushing out of the torn tissue.

Brienne gasped and her breath misted in the air around her. She ran to the men, against the surge of troops rushing into the city, to get to the rise. The screams went from inhuman to human as more Wights freed themselves from their shallow graves to attack the soldiers. They fought back with their steel blades, but steel wasn't enough to destroy the dead.

"No!" Brienne cried, "not steel!" She pierced a Wight with _Ice, _shattering it. "Dragonglass, fire or Valyrian steel. Get inside! Hurry!"

Ardayn and Serdun unleashed their dragonfire on the dead, setting the walking masses of bone, skin and muscle on fire. The Wights' ear-piercing shrieks became louder as their bodies burned. The men backed away, assisting their injured companions, as they stumbled towards the gates.

"Brienne!"

She thought she heard Griff calling to her but didn't spare the energy to look back. The dead were gathering, rising from the grounds, lumbering out of the trees towards her, almost as if they were drawn to her. She heard another dragon's shriek and looked up to see Gallan join them, adding its firepower to Ardayn and Serdun's.

"Brienne!"

This time she looked back to see Griff and Podrick on the ramparts. The King's Gate was now blocked by the sheer mass of men forcing their way into the city, the crowd too tightly packed to allow anyone out through the gateway. She looked back to Griff to see him, with Catren and Allwyn on either side, jump off the high wall guarding the city.

"No!" Brienne cried, horrified. Her king had just thrown himself to his death!

Griff wasn't dead. Far from it. She hadn't seen that he had his arms around Catren and Allwyn as he leapt away from the wall. The dragons, though small, were strong enough to slow down his descent. Griff released them when he was only a few feet from the ground. He landed and rolled forward, coming out of the roll in a smooth, controlled motion. He jumped to his feet and unsheathed _Dawn_, dodging around guards with his usual grace and speed.

"Brienne, behind you!" Griff called.

Brienne lashed out even as she turned, shattering the Wight about to attack her. Then Griff, Catren and Allwyn were with her. Griff thrust his blade into a Wight with such force he almost overbalanced when the creature shattered. They both stared at _Dawn_ in wide-eyed shock. _Ice_ needed to pierce a Wight to destroy it, but _Dawn_ only needed to touch it. Griff adjusted his style from the two-handed thrust Brienne favored to the light, quick water dance style he'd perfected in Essos.

For several minutes, Brienne, Griff and the dragons fought valiantly but the dead were growing in numbers. Soon Brienne and Griff were forced to fight back-to-back, with the dragons firing from above them. Even with all of their efforts, they weren't enough to hold back the tide of dead. Brienne gasped air into her burning lungs, exhaustion threatening to overwhelm her, her arms aching as she grunted and slashed out with the heavy Valyrian steel sword. At her back, Griff also breathed in deep, desperate gasps, his energy draining as fast as hers. Despair gripped her heart as she looked up at her precious dragons. They would stay and fight with them to the very end, dying with their parents, if need be. This couldn't be their end, could it?

Suddenly, a line of burning arrows flew over them, into the mass of oncoming Wights. Brienne and Griff turned to look back at the city walls. Jaime was on the ramparts with the Lannister archers, the same men who'd rushed inside the safety of the city walls. Jaime's face was red and he gestured to the men. They adjusted their positions as more men filled the ramparts behind them, setting up a second line of archers for a more powerful assault. Bronn, Ned and Balon ran from Jaime, waving the men along as the archers filled the gaps.

The walls were lined with the black leathers and crimson red uniforms of the Lannister forces while, below them, the blood-red three-headed dragon banners of House Targaryen fluttered in the chilly breeze. Hope filled Brienne's heart and arms with a wave of warmth and energy. Jaime was, once again, coming to her rescue. As he'd done when Locke's men wanted to rape her and when the bear had tried to kill her, when she'd needed him most, Jaime rose to her defense. She knew then, as clearly as she knew her own name, they would survive this battle. Even more, with Griff at her side, the dragons overhead and Jaime at her back, they would _win_.

"Brienne!"

Jaime gestured to her, urging them to come closer to the city walls. Brienne understood his plan. He was trying to limit the attack against them. With the wall at their backs, the dead could only attack them from the front. They'd be closer, making the archers' hits stronger and more precise. The archers could focus on shooting at the dead without risking hitting her, Griff or the dragons.

"Zaldrīzoti, māzigon naejot issa!" Brienne ordered.

Griff had already started creating a path towards the archers. Brienne pressed against his back, trusting him to lead them, as she covered their retreat. The dragons tightened their circle as the flaming arrows shot into the mass of Wights, effectively cutting down their numbers. Slowly, they worked their way back to the city walls. Brienne knew they were at the shelter when Griff wrapped his arm around her and pulled her to his side.

"Zaldrīzoti, māzigon naejot issa!" he ordered.

The dragons came down to the ground beside them. A line of burning arrows drove into the ground in front of them, separating them from the oncoming Wights. Brienne, now able to hear Jaime screaming orders to his archers, finally released _Ice_. The Stark's greatsword tumbled to the ground. Her hands were numb from the heavy weight and tight grip. She flexed her fingers to encourage the blood flow. Her fingertips tingled and the heat from the burning arrows warmed her as she slumped against the bricks and mortar.

"Archers, second line, aim at the rear!" Jaime screamed. "First line, continue defense!"

Further down the walls, Bronn, Ned and Balon repeated his order to the officers stationed there, directing the archers they commanded. Now that the fear of hitting Brienne, Griff or the dragons had been managed, the archers engaged with deadly force, demonstrating why the Westerlands armies were among the greatest in the world. The double line of archers shot on command, one line bending down to fit new arrows into their bows as the other line shot fire into the mass of Wights. Sweat-soaked squires were at their sides, lighting arrows as fast as the archers shot them.

Brienne closed her eyes and slumped into Griff, allowing Jaime's voice to wash over her as he called out orders, battle strategy and encouragement to his men. She was tired to the bone, her legs shaking with the effort of holding up her own weight. Gently, bearing her weight along with his own, Griff slid down the wall until they reached the ground. He was as exhausted as she was, not even having enough energy to call the dragons. They both held out their arms, allowing the dragons to snuggle into them, the constantly renewed line of burning arrows protecting them from the rapidly thinning mass of Wights.

A wave of human cries washed over them. Brienne turned to look towards the Lion's Gate on her right. Though her view was limited, she could see men waving their hands and bows. The mass of Wights further thinned as more archers turned their bows to the tourney grounds. Then there were no more. The Lannister archers had defeated the Wights. They had won their first battle against the Army of the Dead. The men above her head cried out in triumph and relief.

"My Lady Ser! Your Grace!" Podrick's voice was hard to hear over the rejoicing.

"Formation!" Jaime ordered. "Hold your positions!"

The men quieted as they realized they hadn't been released from the battle line. The archers and their squires returned to their marks, once again ready for battle. Jaime pushed through them to where Bronn, Balon and his officers had gathered. The officers and knights huddled in a group, listening attentively to whatever Jaime was saying to them. The archers and their squires were still and alert, conserving their energy, prepared in case they needed to fight another battle. The relative calm allowed Podrick to call down from the rampart.

"My Lady Ser! Your Grace!" he yelled. "Are you well?"

Griff dragged himself to his feet and staggered back, so he could see up. "Yes, we're fine."

"Water!" Brienne cried, also rising.

"Yes, my Lady Ser." Podrick turned away from them. "Water! The dragons need water."

In seconds, many of the archers and even several officers passed along their water skins. Podrick tossed them over the side, careful to throw them a distance away. Many skins burst from the high fall but several remained intact. Brienne and Griff eagerly gathered the skins and drank their fill then poured water down the dragons' parched throats.

"Open the gates!" Griff ordered.

Ned appeared on the rampart. "Your Grace, the gates won't open. The gatekeepers are working on them now."

Griff flushed but kept calm. "Then bring rope! We can climb the wall. I want an assembly and an accounting of the people prepared immediately."

"Yes, your Grace," Ned promised. "Immediately."

"Podrick!" Brienne called up, regaining energy as the water replenished her body. "What about the people? Did the dead rise in the graveyards? How many were hurt?"

"The people are safe, my Lady Ser," Podrick grinned down at her. "Ser Jaime took charge of the city. He armed the Westerlands army with burning torches. The army units have surrounded the graveyards. They have orders to burn anything that tries to leave."

"What about Flea Bottom?" Brienne demanded. "Some of the dead there aren't even buried."

Podrick nodded. "Ser Jaime gave the Dornish lords Valyrian steel swords and sent them into the streets with the Gold Cloaks. The city guards are also armed with torches, to destroy anything that rises in the streets."

"The babies?" Brienne prompted.

"The babies and Ela are in the maester's chambers with Ser Manfrey and Lord Anders," Podrick reported. "They both have Valyrian steel swords. The Red Keep is locked down and the Gold Cloaks are ordering citizens to stay in their homes. The people are as safe as they can be."

Brienne and Griff stepped further away from the wall. They watched as Ned, along with Daeron, reappeared carrying a heavy rope between them, just as Jaime returned with Bronn at his side.

"Why aren't the gates open?" Jaime demanded. "Why do you have rope?"

"The gates won't open," Ned explained. "We must bring Prince Aegon and Lady Ser Brienne into the city. His Grace ordered us to bring rope for them to climb."

Jaime frowned but turned to his men, barking orders. Quickly, the men helped Ned and Daeron secure the thick rope around the pillar and toss the end down to Brienne and Griff. Griff caught the end and tugged, assuring himself the rope was strong and the fastening secure. He turned to Brienne.

"Quick," he ordered, "up the rope."

Brienne shook her head and stood tall. "No, your Grace, you go first."

Griff frowned at her. "Brienne, we don't have time to argue about this. The Army of the Dead has just struck. Not in the North, not at Castle Black or Winterfell or anywhere near the Wall, but here in King's Landing. We need to get into the safety of the walls before they strike again."

"Yes, your Grace," Brienne agreed readily. "But you are the king. You must go first. Your life is more valuable than mine."

Griff glared at her, his jaw setting in the familiar stubborn manner she knew so well. But she also knew she was right. Aegon Martell Targaryen was the King of the Seven Kingdoms. He was destined to lead the realm out of the Long Night. Protecting him would protect all of Westeros.

"I am your sworn sword," she reminded him. "That night, when I swore myself into your service, you made a vow to me, too. You pledged to ask no service of me that may bring me dishonor. You cannot ask me to leave my king behind while I go to safety. You cannot dishonor me in that manner."

Griff's jaw was rigid and a muscle twitched rapidly in his lower cheek. He looked up at the men watching them silently from the ramparts then at the dragons gathered around them. His indigo eyes burned with a fire almost as hot as dragonfire.

"Fine," he agreed, his reluctance apparent in his tightly clenched fist. "Hurry after me."

She nodded and used her weight to hold the rope as Griff, as quick as a monkey, used it to scale the enormous wall protecting the capital. Catren and Allwyn flew up to stay at Griff's side as he quickly ascended the sheer wall. Gallan, Serdun and Ardayn stayed with her, looking up to watch Griff's progress. Brienne looked beyond Griff to the heavy, grey clouds still blotting out the sun and the warmth. Why was it still so cold if they'd defeated the army of the dead? She scanned the skies but saw no sign of the Night King. Was he up there with Viserion, hidden behind the clouds? Why had he attacked King's Landing instead of near the Wall?

Gallan, Ardayn and Serdun, still beside her, began to shriek. Brienne looked down at them and gasped in horror. The rope, which was so long, it lay coiled on the ground, was on fire. The end must have touched on one of the still-burning arrows. Even as she looked, the flame raced along the rope, disintegrating it in her hands.

"No!" she cried, trying to snuff the flame with her hands. "Griff, hurry!"

Griff, still several meters from the top, looked down at her cry. His eyes widened as he saw what had alarmed her. He had the blood of the dragon and could survive fire but he couldn't fly. A drop from that height would kill him. Catren and Allwyn, at Griff's side, shrieked as Griff turned his attention back to climbing. Podrick leaned over the side, Bronn and Ned grabbing Podrick's legs as they also saw the threat.

The fire ran up the length of rope faster than Griff could climb. But he was almost to the top. Griff brought his legs to his chest then pushed against the wall, using the strength in his legs to swing the rope towards Podrick's outstretched hands. Podrick caught Griff's arm with a harsh grunt that turned into a cry. Griff's weight was almost enough to send them both tumbling over the side. Bronn threw himself over Podrick's legs while Ned braced himself against the pillar. Daeron appeared beside Ned and grabbed Griff's free arm. Jaime grabbed Griff's other arm, over Podrick's hold, as Ned and Bronn dragged Podrick back from the edge.

Brienne sighed with relief as Griff was also pulled over the side. She whispered a prayer of thanks to the Gods for protecting Griff and Podrick. They were safe! She knelt down to calm the dragons.

"What happened?" Griff demanded. He leaned over the side. "Brienne!"

"I'm okay," she reported.

Griff whirled to face the men. "Why isn't the gate open? Bring more rope. Brienne is still down there."

Brienne straightened from the dragons to look up to the top of the wall. She saw Balon run up to Griff and Jaime. The knight was gasping for breath from his dead run.

"Your Grace, they're coming!" Balon cried.

Griff looked around the ramparts as if the threat could be an army of crows coming at them. "Who's coming?"

Brienne saw Balon face flush so red, she could see it from the distance. Her heart began to pound madly as she looked up at the gallant knight.

"The dead!" Balon cried. "Thousands of them!"

Brienne watched as the men, including the archers and the officers, turned to look towards the Lion's Gate and the King's Road. They all looked cold and grim, horror freezing their faces into death-like masks. The archers raised their bows, preparing for the next wave.

"How many?" she called up. "Podrick, how many?"

Podrick looked down at her, his eyes bright with unshed tears. "A wave of the dead, my Lady Ser. Ten times more than we just fought."

Griff, equally horrified, looked down at Brienne. "Where is that rope? We need rope. Brienne is still down there! Bring rope!"

Brienne didn't listen to his desperate orders. Now that she was paying attention, she could feel the rumble along the soft ground, the pounding of an army of feet. The skies above her darkened even more as a viciously cold gust of wind struck her cheeks and pulled at her hair. They had only fought the first wave. Now the real Army of the Dead had arrived.

She should have known the small number they'd battled wasn't enough given all the dead bodies littering the Crownlands. She'd underestimated the true cruelty of men. Their bloodthirsty quest for power and glory never changed. After the War of the Five Kings, after Robert's Rebellion, after all the battles in history, guarding graveyards wasn't enough.

She'd forgotten they'd turned all of Westeros into a graveyard.


	42. Fire Keeper

The Keeper

Chapter 42 – Fire Keeper

Brienne closed her eyes as she absorbed the vibration from the soft ground, the pounding of an army of undead soldiers. Above her, the living fighters, the archers, officers and squires, were now quiet, conserving their energy for the next round of battle. She looked to the rise past the tourney grounds, where the dead would soon appear. They'd been fools to think that the small number they'd just defeated, a few hundred Wights, was the entirety of the enemy they'd fight. The first wave was only the dead buried near the tourney grounds. Now they would face the true threat.

The army of men – fighters from the nearby keeps and families of the Westerlands, Stormlands, Crownlands, the Reach and Dorne – had strong advantages. They knew what they were fighting and wouldn't waste time or energy with useless defenses such as ordinary steel or hand-to-hand combat. Their archers were higher placed, giving them better sight lines and clear marks. They kept their distance and used fire, their most powerful weapon. Even more, the city's greatest protection, the thick, strong walls surrounding King's Landing would shield them, for as long as it took the archers to defend the Wights.

The walls were no protection for her. She was outside the city, near the King's Gate, the same gate Griff had, prophetically, used to enter the city he now ruled. That gate would not open for her, keeping her outside to face the Night King and his army. Brienne knew this was the Gods' work. Only they had the power to keep the massive gate shut despite the best efforts of men. The Gods wanted her out here, facing the Army of the Dead. It was their will and she was their instrument. As they commanded, she followed.

"Brienne!" Griff cried from above her.

She opened her eyes and looked up to see his white face, his emotions tightly checked under his strained, stark features. Jaime, Balon and Bronn turned away, gathering with their officers, their focus on the approaching army. Ned stood by, but kept his head lowered, quiet and ready. Griff also looked to the distance and curled his hands into fists. His face paled even further. She could almost see his eyes blazing, even from their distance, as his willpower locked his pale, perfect features into an expressionless death mask.

"Catren, Allwyn, māzigon naejot issa!" he ordered.

"No!" Brienne cried, knowing what he intended. "Don't come down here! Podrick, stop him!"

Podrick, tears spilling from his eyes, turned to face Griff. Her squire was so used to obeying her orders, he did it without conscious thought. But Podrick stopped when he was faced with the fierce, frozen desperation of the King of the Seven Kingdoms. Griff calmly, deliberately, pushed Podrick aside as Catren and Allwyn rose beside him. Around him, archers, squires and officers stumbled back, abandoning their positions rather than risking an encounter with the deadly dragons. Jaime and his officers turned from their conversation to watch the confrontation.

"Your Grace, no!" Brienne pleaded. "You can't come down here. You can't face them with me."

"I am Aegon Martell Targaryen, the son of the sun and the blood of dragons," Griff snarled, his expression so cold and fierce, Brienne would have raised her sword to defend herself, if she'd seen it on anyone else. "No one controls me, no one commands me."

"Except the Gods," Brienne countered. "You said you trust me and believe the Gods are guiding us. Did you lie?"

Griff, his arms already around Catren and Allwyn, froze. Jaime, Balon, Bronn and even Podrick stepped back as they watched him. The soldiers and Ned were also still, their attention wavering between the King of Westeros and the approaching Army of the Dead. Griff glared down at her, his temper almost as tightly controlled as his expression.

"I've never lied to you, Brienne." Griff spoke through gritted teeth. "I trust you and I believe in the Gods' guidance. But I won't let you die if I can save you."

"You can't save me, your Grace. If you come down here, all you can do is die with me," Brienne insisted. "The gate won't open and once the dead approach, we can't allow it to open. We can't risk the Wights damaging the gate and entering the city. You can't die with me. You're too important to lose."

"So are you." Griff's expression was still tightly controlled but his voice trembled the slightest bit. "You're the mother of dragons, their keeper. They _need_ you. I—"

He abruptly stopped speaking. Instead, he pressed his lips into a flat, bloodless line. Brienne's heart clenched at the icy, blank mask on his face. Griff was fighting hard to control his reactions, to keep his emotions out of his expression. She tore her gaze away from her king to look down at Ardayn, Serdun and Gallan still beside her. They were tense and puffed, aware of the threat marching towards them, even if they couldn't see the army beyond the rise. Then Brienne raised her head to look at Catren and Allwyn, hovering above Griff's head, ready and even eager to bring Griff down to her.

A wave of love and tenderness washed over her. These were her children, the only children the Gods had allowed her. They were fierce, devoted, exceptional and extraordinary, a joy beyond her wildest dreams. She had done everything she could to protect and prepare them for the world they would soon dominate. She'd given her blood for their birth, her love for their devotion and her sword for their protection. But the greatest gift she'd given them was a steady, true father to mold and guide them with his sense of honor and duty.

"The dragons have you," Brienne pointed out gently. "I couldn't ask for a better man to raise them. They're clever, strong and disciplined from your training. They'll learn to serve the world under your guidance. I know you'll serve the people of Westeros with the same love and care you're giving to raising these five. You'll be a wonderful king, as you're already a wonderful father."

For a moment, Griff's iron control wavered and his mouth quivered. Brienne could see the grief and terror in his features as he looked down at her. He opened his mouth, his desperation clear as he raised his head to scan the horizon. Judging from the way his eyes widened, what he saw alarmed him.

"Brienne," he began, but stopped as his voice broke.

It took him a few seconds to compose his features, to bring his emotions back under his rigid control. A lump rose in Brienne's throat and tears filled her eyes. She understood what he was feeling. They'd been together for less than four months but they'd fought side-by-side, planned to build a better world and had even created a family. Their time with each other had been so short but they'd packed more memories into those brief months than some people experienced in a lifetime.

"I used to pray daily to the Faith to give my life meaning and to serve a just king." Brienne knew her voice wavered but she didn't care. She blinked hard to clear her eyes but didn't wipe away the tears sliding down her cheeks. If these were her last words to her king, she wanted them to be genuine. "The Gods answered my prayers. They gave me the dragons and they gave me you. I've been blessed beyond anything I could have imagined. I've tried to serve you and the Gods to the best of my ability. It's been an honor to be in your service, your Grace."

Griff's mouth fell open and his chest expanded as he gasped in air. He shook his head, either denying her words or their outcome. Still, she knew nothing he did would change their fates. Even the King of the Seven Kingdoms wasn't above the Gods' will. She had hoped for a lifetime to serve her king but accepted their judgement. Her faith in the Gods was unshakeable. Above all things, she was their warrior and would carry out their will. If this was the sacrifice they wanted her to make, she would make it gladly.

"Brienne, no!" Griff spoke between clenched teeth but the desperation was clear in his voice. "I will not let you die."

"You have no choice." Brienne blinked rapidly as fresh tears spilled from her eyes. "You even predicted this would happen. The first day you returned to King's Landing, you said I was a woman of honor, a noble knight of the Seven Kingdoms, who would willingly sacrifice herself for the greater good. _This_ is the greater good."

"I can't lose you, Brienne," Griff insisted, no longer caring that his voice cracked. "You're too important to lose."

"No, I'm only one person," Brienne disagreed. "You're not just my king. All of Westeros, the entire world, needs you."

She recalled what Davos had said at Dragonstone, when they'd gathered in the _Chamber of the Painted Table_ to strategize for the parlay with Cersei and Euron.

"_I remember her lies as clear as day. She told them to Stannis often enough." Davos's gentle face flushed with remembered fury. "She called him Azor Ahai and said 'you are he who must stand against the Other. The one whose coming was prophesied five thousand years ago. The red comet was your herald. You are the prince that was promised, and if you fail the world fails with you.' Well, Stannis is dead and the world still stands, doesn't it?"_

Melisandre had been wrong; wrong for believing Azor Ahai and the prince that was promised were the same person, wrong for believing Stannis could be either one and wrong for believing that sacrificing unwilling innocents served a higher purpose. Only the sacrifices men or women made by choice, with their whole heart and soul were true offering. Forcing death upon another only blackened the killer's soul. Melisandre's beliefs had been wrong but the prophecy was true.

"Aegon Martell Targaryen, you are he who must stand against the Others," Brienne recited. "The one whose coming was prophesied five thousand years ago. The red comet was your herald. You were born under it. _You_ are the prince that was promised, and if you fail the world fails with you. You must lead the people. You were born, saved, secreted and raised to be king. It is your _duty_."

Griff's expression hardened. He understood duty. Every moment of his life had been preparation for him to do his duty, to serve the people of Westeros. He knew his ancestors had failed because they'd looked upon kingship as a destiny, an entitlement they didn't need to defend or preserve. Their arrogance, madness and sloth had led to their own destruction. Now it was up to Griff to lead the people, to save the kingdom they'd nearly destroyed with their own hands. He couldn't allow his personal feelings for one person to outweigh his duty to the Seven Kingdoms.

Griff stared out at the horizon again then turned to glare at Ned. "Take me to the gatekeepers."

Ned kept his expression composed, even in the face of the fierce, angry dragons. He nodded and turned away. Griff glared down at Brienne for a brief moment, Catren and Allwyn flying above his head, before turning to follow Ned. Brienne took a deep breath and relaxed the muscles she didn't notice had tightened. The rumbling under her feet was getting stronger. Ardayn, Serdun and Gallan hissed and looked around, sensing the threat they didn't yet see.

Brienne looked up at the ramparts again, looking for Podrick. Her squire was curled against the wall, his face red with grief and misery. Where Griff reacted with fury and icy control to hide his pain, Podrick made no attempt to hide his emotions. He looked down at Brienne, not bothering to wipe away the tears streaming down his face.

"Podrick," Brienne called up to him. She wiped away her tears to try to put up a brave front for him.

"Y…yes, m...my L-L-Lady Ser?" he stuttered.

Over time, as they'd become comfortable with each other, Podrick's stutter had eased. Brienne hadn't even noticed it lately. But it came back when her young squire was distressed, as he clearly was now.

"Podrick, you must be strong," Brienne ordered. "I _need_ you to be strong for the dragons and for King Aegon. If I'm not here to be with them, you must care for them, in my place. Will you do that for me, Podrick?"

He nodded but didn't try to speak.

"Listen to me, Podrick." Brienne stepped closer to the wall, as if it could bring her closer to him. "Be brave and look forward, always. Tell my father I…I—"

She faltered, thinking of the grief it would cause her father to lose his last living family member, the daughter he'd loved and supported, no matter how much she must have disappointed him. He deserved better than he'd received but she would honor his teachings with her dying breath. She drew in air to steady herself.

"Podrick." Her voice was steady now. "Tell my father I tried to live every moment as he taught me to, with honor and courage."

"I…I will," Podrick promised, his voice breaking. "I'll t-t-tell him you're the greatest knight in the…the Seven Kingdoms."

Brienne smiled at his boundless faith in her. Then her smile died and she looked up at her squire earnestly. "The people of Tarth will be your responsibility, Podrick. King Aegon will make you my father's heir."

"No, my L-L-Lady Ser," Podrick protested. "I'm not your blood."

"We're more than blood, Podrick, we're bonded," Brienne corrected. "You're as much mine as are the dragons. You're as precious to me as they are. The dragons, my father and King Aegon will need your support. I'm not worried about them because I know you'll take care of them as you've cared for me." Fresh tears streamed down her cheeks but she didn't bother to check them. "I was so blessed to have you in my life, Podrick."

Podrick sobbed and shook his head, pressing his cheek into the rough brick. A hand appeared on his shoulder. Bronn leaned over the young squire, his mouth softened in an uncharacteristic show of sympathy. Jaime, his face almost as flushed and miserable as Podrick's, appeared at his side and looked down at Brienne. He opened his mouth to speak, then swallowed visibly before trying again.

"Brienne, we've devised a plan for your defense." Jaime's voice quivered but remained strong. "The Wights are slow moving, which gives us more reaction time—"

"No, Ser Jaime," Brienne interrupted him. "I've been on the battle line before. I know how many are approaching from the rumbling footsteps. There are too many coming for you to defend me for long. It will take hours to defeat that many Wights. You're limited to only the archers on the walls to fight them."

Jaime shut his eyes as a shudder passed through him. He clenched his hand and lowered his head, fighting for control. Their relationship had started in animosity and mutual hatred. Then, long weeks of trampling through the Riverlands and keeping each other alive during the worst of times had changed it. He was her dearest friend, the man who had trusted her with his darkest secrets and believed in her honor even when he'd been stripped of his own. In a different life and a different time, perhaps they could have become more. But this lifetime required duty and sacrifice, from both of them.

Jaime opened his eyes. "It doesn't matter how long it takes. We'll defend you. As long as we can keep the fire line between you and the dead, you're safe. We'll keep up our line, even if I have to jam a bow into this useless gold hand and shoot arrows myself."

Brienne shook her head. "Ser Jaime, you can't worry about me. You must focus on the future. You have to carry on our legacy and fulfill our vows."

Jamie stared at her. "What vows?"

"To protect Aegon Martell Targaryen," Brienne explained. "We're both former Kingsguards. It's our duty to protect our king. We took vows to give our lives for King Aegon."

"No," Jamie denied. "My vow was to Aerys and I killed him. I failed. My vow died with him."

"Not so, Ser Jaime," Brienne corrected. "Rhaegar's last request to you was to keep his family safe. You said it yourself. You told us Rhaegar and your Kingsguard brothers still come to you in your dreams, repeating Rhaegar's last request."

"They're haunting me," Jaime snarled.

"They aren't haunting you; they're _reminding_ you." Brienne raised her voice. "They knew what you didn't. _Rhaegar's son lives_. All these years, your dreams were telling you your vow hasn't ended, your sworn duty isn't finished. You're the last of your Kingsguard brothers. The Gods spared you, time and again, for a reason. You may have failed to protect Elia and Rhaenys but you can still save Aegon. You have a chance to regain your honor by keeping your vow to your prince. You must fulfill our vow by protecting Rhaegar's son."

Jaime shook his head. "Aegon won't have me, even if I were the last man alive and had two good hands to protect him."

"Sansa and Arya both refused my protection the first time I offered it," Brienne countered. "I didn't let that stop me. We'd made a vow to Lady Catelyn to save her daughters, to return them to their family. This is no different than when you sent me, with _Oathkeeper_, to find Sansa."

"It's entirely different," Jaime argued. "Sansa and Arya Stark were frightened little girls who were being sent home. We're facing a war with the undead. I'm a one-handed cripple. I'm not enough to protect anyone, let alone a man who hates me for existing."

If he'd been closer, Brienne would have shaken Jaime until she shook his stubborn self-loathing lose. He was adrift, without the touchstones that had defined his life, trying to assimilate multiple shocks in a short time. He finally understood how his actions had contributed to the fall of House Lannister, witnessed the return of Aegon Martell Targaryen, assisted in the death of his beloved sister, organized the defense of King's Landing and now faced her death. If they'd had more time, Brienne would have sympathized with him. But their time together was about to end. She had to make him understand in the short moments they had left.

"We don't know what's enough until we try, Ser Jaime. Finding Lady Sansa, taking her to Jon Snow at Castle Black, was _enough_. It gave the Northerners strength to fight for Winterfell, to regain their lands, to make Jon Snow their king and for the wolves to regather. Our actions were enough to fulfill and even surpass our vow to Catelyn. We, _you and I_, Ser Jaime, helped restore House Stark."

Jaime was so silent, Brienne stepped away from the wall to see him. He was looking down at her but his focus appeared inward, perhaps actually _listening_ to her this time. After so many years of defending his choices and being reviled for his most heroic act, Jaime had to _decide_ to turn a past of shame and bitterness into a future of honor and acceptance.

"We did that, Ser Jaime. By honoring our vow to Lady Catelyn, we helped rebuild the family who warned us to guard the realms of men. Jon Snow now leads an army to man the Wall and helped prepare us to defend King's Landing." She paused but Jaime still didn't speak. "You wouldn't have known how to protect the capital if Jon Snow hadn't come to the Dragonpit and explained it to us."

Jaime shook his head. "You see honor, greatness in me where none exists."

"It exists, Ser Jamie, even if you don't see it," Brienne insisted. "You're the reason King's Landing still stands - for the _second_ time. Before, you saved it from being destroyed by wildfire. Now, the capital would have fallen into chaos if you hadn't taken command of it before the dead rose in the graveyards. Who, other than you, could have reacted so quickly to mobilize the army and the Gold Cloaks to defend the city?"

"Only after you sent the army into the city to protect them from the Wights. And I…I didn't plan it," Jaime admitted. "I just did what needed to be done."

Brienne smiled. "Exactly. You just do what needs to be done. Every time I need you to, you rise. That's what you must do from now on. You must uphold our joint honor and the Kingsguards' honor." She held his gaze, even across the distance, making sure she had his full attention. "It's your time. Rise, Ser Jaime, _rise_."

Jamie held her gaze, as if he could see the truth in her eyes, even across the distance. Then, as she watched, something in his expression changed, a new resolve she hadn't seen before. His shoulders squared and his back straightened. Energy caused the fine hairs to rise on her arms as she held his gaze. She could almost see the fire building behind his wildfire green eyes. It was as if a spark had ignited inside him, flaring to life behind his eyes. He nodded to her. Then Brienne remembered the most important point.

"One more thing, Ser Jaime. You must remember, those who protect the king sometimes must protect him from himself. King Aegon is a good man, fair and intelligent, but he's hot-headed and impulsive." Brienne shook her head. "You've seen the worst of kings: madness, sloth, cruelty and weakness. Promise me you'll protect King Aegon from all things, even, if need be, from himself."

Jamie held her gaze for a long moment before he nodded slowly. He opened his mouth to speak but Griff returned with Ned at his back and Catren and Allwyn over his head. The dragons screeched and beat their wings furiously, creating a draft that caused the archers around them to duck down. Ardayn, Gallan and Serdun began to screech, too, and rose from around Brienne. She turned around and gasped. The Army of the Dead was at the top of the rise beyond the tourney grounds. Rows of skeletons, held together by bits of muscle, skin and connective tissue, stretched from Blackwater Bay to the Kingsroad and beyond.

"My Lady Ser," Podrick screamed.

Brienne looked up to see Podrick reach down for her, so distraught he didn't seem to understand he couldn't possibly reach her. He'd nearly overbalanced himself, threatening to topple from the ramparts, when Bronn grabbed his shoulders and dragged him away from the edge.

"No!" Podrick struggled with Bronn.

"You fool!" Bronn snarled. "Being bonded to dragons doesn't give you wings. Getting yourself killed isn't going to help her."

Griff, standing beside Podrick, looked away from Podrick's raw emotions to stare at the horizon. Griff's icy control broke as he saw the wave of dead coming towards Brienne. His face whitened and his mouth fell open. He looked almost as desperate as Podrick. Brienne gasped as Griff put his arms around Catren and Allwyn. Now Griff was about to act as impulsively and as foolishly as Podrick had only a moment earlier. They couldn't come down to her.

"No!" she cried out. "Don't come down here."

Griff ignored her. He took a single step to the edge before Jaime stepped in front of him. Griff snarled and tried to go around Jaime, still holding onto the dragons. Again, Jaime stepped into their path.

"Get out of my way, Kingslayer," Griff snarled.

"Step away from the edge, _your Grace_." Jamie placed heavy emphasis on Griff's honorific.

Catren and Allwyn shrieked at Jaime but didn't fire, even though he was in their range. In fact, Jaime was so close to Griff, he could have reached out and touched the king without stretching. Around them, the men kept their distance, including Bronn, who still had a tight grip on Podrick. Griff flushed darkly red, his indigo eyes flashing dangerous fire.

"I don't have time for you, Kingslayer," Griff snarled. "I need to protect Brienne."

"And I need to honor Brienne," Jaime countered, still standing firm.

Griff stiffened and glared at him, fury crackling around him. "What?"

"Brienne believes in the world you'll build. She's ready to give her life for it," Jaime explained, equally incensed. "She asked me to protect you, to ensure that world comes to be. I'm honoring her request, whether you like it or not. You're the king and I will keep you safe, no matter what you think of it." He raised his golden hand in almost a threatening manner. "Whatever it takes."

Griff hissed in his breath, looking from Jaime to his mangled golden hand. Catren and Allwyn, hovering behind Griff's head, also hissed. Still, they didn't attack or even screech at Jaime. They, like the men around them, waited as the tension between the King and the Lord Commander built.

"He's right, your Grace," Brienne called up. "Ser Jaime understands how important it's to me that you're always safe. The world needs you."

A fine tremor shook Griff's body but his muscles remained locked. Jaime was just as defiant, not allowing Griff to reach the edge. Catren and Allwyn stayed with their father, ready to obey but unsure of the command.

"Your Grace, you are the Prince of Dorne and the rightful King of Westeros," Ned, standing just behind his prince, ventured quietly. "The people look to you for guidance and strength. It's your duty to lead us out of the Long Night."

Griff froze. He looked from Jaime to Ned them back at Jaime. Jamie held his ground and even rotated his golden, mangled hand, despite the threat of Catren and Allwyn behind Griff. After a tense pause, Griff relaxed his posture and stepped back. Catren and Allwyn, hovering at Griff's head, quieted as they continued to study Jaime. Brienne relaxed as a sense of peace came over her. Her family would be safe. Rational people, such as Jaime, Balon, Ned and Tyrion would guide Griff and Podrick, keep them from throwing themselves off ledges or making other equally impulsive decisions.

"Griff," she called up.

A shudder passed through Griff at hearing her call him by his nickname. He leaned over to look down at her. His bout of rashness had ended and his emotions were once again tightly under his control. Still, he relaxed his features enough to smile down sadly at her. Brienne smiled up at him, but without sadness.

"Promise me you'll take good care of Podrick and the dragons. Protect Ela, the children and all the people of Westeros. Love them and guide them, be the king you promised me you would be," she asked.

Another shudder shook his frame but Griff nodded. "I will."

Her smile softened as she allowed her adoration to shine through. Griff would be a great leader, a king who would serve his people instead of ruling them. Westeros and the dragons would be safe in his hands. She might not live to see the world Griff would create but she believed in it, just as she believed in him.

"You'll be a wonderful king." Tears filled her eyes again but she blinked them back, determined not to blur her last image of her king. "It's been an honor to be your sworn sword, to serve King Aegon the Sixth Targaryen. Long may you reign."

Griff looked down at her, his lips parting as tears filled his eyes, his grief and pain suddenly raw and uncontained. Seeing his suffering brought fresh tears to her eyes, even as the archers raised their bows behind Griff, burning arrows alight. They drove a line of fire at her back, between her and the oncoming horde. Brienne whirled around to look at the Army of the Dead. She gasped. The skeletons had advanced across the tourney grounds, their stumbling steps slow but steady, only minutes away from her. Nearer to the Kingsroad, the archers were already firing into the mass of Wights, frantically trying to decrease their numbers as wave after wave approached.

She hadn't realized how close the Army of the Dead was and how fleeting her last moments would be. Brienne knelt down to embrace Ardayn, Serdun and Gallan, still at her side. There were no words to express how she felt about them as she hugged the trio tightly. But the dragons, with their heightened emotional sensitivity and their ability to sense intent, seemed to already know what was happening. They whined and pressed against her, as if their small bodies could protect her.

"Sōvegon, zaldrīzoti," she ordered.

The three squawked and refused to leave her side. No, they had to leave her. Staying with her wasn't their fate. They would grow strong and, under Griff's guidance, become the protectors of Westeros, the symbol of his reign and the promise of the glorious new world he would create.

"Sōvegon, zaldrīzoti," she ordered again, her tone sharper.

The three, as stubborn as she was, remained snuggled around her. She looked up to Griff, who was still watching her, ignoring the flurry of frantic activity around him. Archers shot into the enemy and refreshed the fire line protecting her, even as she prepared to make her last stand.

"Call them!" she ordered him. "Call the dragons to you!"

Griff swallowed hard as he brought his emotions back under his rigid control. Then he nodded. "Ardayn, Serdun, Gallan, māzigon naejot issa!"

Beside him, Podrick, no longer held back by Bronn, fell to his knees and cried out, a sound between a sob and a scream. Catren and Allwyn, now settled on the battlements between Griff and Podrick, picked up the cry, shrieking their rage and grief. Griff repeated his order, his voice hardening. Reluctantly, Ardayn, Serdun and Gallan rose, also shrieking as they flew up to the battlements. They refused to land, circling over the archer's heads, shrieking out their fury. Catren and Allwyn rose to join them, their rage and grief intensifying as they absorbed Griff, Jaime and Podrick's pain and desperation.

Their shrieks seem to attract the Army of the Dead, as the skeletons released their own inhuman cries. It seemed they were drawn to them, as many changed directions to leave the Kingsroad and come towards the tourney grounds. Brienne wanted to cover her ears but grabbed _Ice_ instead. The Stark's greatsword was heavy in her hands but it gave her a measure of comfort. If the Gods wanted her to die this day, she would do so but she wouldn't die without a fight. Even the Gods would understand that.

Something shuddered in the air, a disturbance so profound, it caused goosebumps to rise on her arms. She looked around frantically, trying to find the source. Her sight was partially blinded by the rain of arrows lighting up the unnaturally darkened afternoon. There! In the sky beyond the rise, she saw twin streaks of light flash in the heavy grey clouds. She was reminded of the forked lightning bolt, the sigil of House Dondarrion.

_Griff nodded. "I recognize it. The story is that the first lord was a messenger. He was ambushed delivering a message for his king. The man thought he would die in the attack but a bolt of lightning struck his attackers, killing both. The messenger delivered his important message and was made the first Lord Dondarrion for his troubles."_

Would the Gods do that again? Would they send a bolt of lightning to protect her and save her from the horde? Even as the thought came to her, Brienne discarded it. A single bolt wouldn't be enough, even if the Gods did send a bolt of lightning to save her. They would have to fill the sky with thousands of bolts to protect her from an entire Army of the Dead. She tightened her grip on _Ice_ even as she watched the skies, ignoring the burning arrows and screams around her.

The dual flare lit the clouds again then suddenly pierced it. Brienne gasped as she realized what she was seeing wasn't lightning, it was fire. _Dragonfire_. The gasp turned to a sob as she fell to her knees, eyes shutting as she whispered her gratitude to the Gods. This was not her time to die. They didn't require her to make that sacrifice. Instead, they had sent her not just one, but two champions. Not lightning, not fire, but dragons, the most powerful creatures in the world.

She opened her eyes, scanning the clouds for Drogon and Rhaegal. She saw the flames light up the clouds again then the dragons broke out of the cloud cover. The bigger dragons' cries, now that they were close enough to be heard over the screams of the armies and the young dragons, made the very air around her shudder. The rain of arrows stopped as the archers and officers alike froze in shocked fear, stared at the oncoming dragons.

"Keep firing!" Jaime ordered. "Brienne is still down there!"

The archers closest to Jaime, the ones being screeched at by the five young dragons, reacted first. They resumed shooting, refreshing the fire line protecting Brienne from the oncoming Wights. Officers quickly threw off their shock, prodded by Bronn, Balon and Ned, and took command of their men again. The volley of fiery arrows resumed even as the older dragons closed in on the battleground.

Drogon and Rhaegal released their fury onto the Wights, following the Kingsroad to the capital, their fire streams a hundred times more powerful than the young dragons. They were so powerful their dragonfire sent up a shower of blackened dirt, shattered rock and pulverized bones. They changed directions, now flying parallel to the wall, destroying Wights by the hundreds. The dragons turned the ground on both sides of the Kingsroad into a field of fire, torching the trees and shrubs, creating a ground fire that raced to the very walls of the city, engulfing the Wights as they lumbered towards the capital. The dragons then came to the tourney grounds, unleashing their wrath onto the dead marching towards Brienne.

"Take cover!" Jaime screamed.

The barrage of fiery arrows stopped at the men fell to their knees, trying to protect themselves from the oncoming storm of dragonfire and debris. Brienne abandoned _Ice_ and ran for the limited protection of the gateway of the King's Gate. It provided some cover as she crouched down, trying to protect her head from the shower of flotsam raised by the dragons' fire; sharp pieces of rock, bone and even bits of steel and wood remaining from previous tourneys. Fleetingly, she thought of the Valyrian steel armor Jon had taken north with him. This was the time the armor, stronger than steel, would have provided the most protection.

"Zaldrīzoti, māzigon naejot issa!"

Brienne uncovered her head as she heard Griff scream out his command. She looked up into the sky, her arms still over her head to protect her eyes from the shower of debris. She gasped at seeing the young dragons had left the safety of the ramparts to join Drogon and Rhaegal. They swooped through the sky, imitating the bigger dragons' battle tactic. The dragons dove close to the ground, released a line of fire, then flew up to avoid possible counterattack. Their intensity was nowhere near as powerful as Drogon or Rhaegal's, but their determination was just as strong.

The archers were no longer protecting her but her dragons were. They fired on the Wights closest to their mother, their dragonfire a bare fraction of Drogon and Rhaegal's, but still effective to repel a limited attack. The Wights they fired upon screamed as the dragonfire burned through the bits of tissue holding their bones together. The bones, without the connective tissue, crumpled to the ground, causing other Wights, senseless, soulless, wretched creatures, to stumble over their remains and into each other.

Suddenly one of the dragons yelped in pain. Brienne gasped and studied the sky desperately. She screamed when she saw Serdun falling rapidly. Serdun flapped its left wing but its right wing was pressed against its side. A spray of blood followed its path down from the skies. The green dragon twisted and Brienne screamed again when she saw a whole sword had pierced its body. Drogon and Rhaegal's powerful fire had uncovered and launched an entire buried sword into the sky and into Serdun!

_"Brienne, fire can't kill a dragon!" Griff caught her arm and dragged her away from the railing._

_She fought him. "No, but swords and arrows can!"_

"Serdun!" Brienne cried.

Her cry was echoed by Griff and Podrick on the battlements above her. She watched, horrified, as Serdun continued to fall. Her greatest fear had just come true. Everyone thought the dragons were invincible, but they were frighteningly vulnerable, especially as young as the five were. Serdun's still-developing armor couldn't protect it from the bite of steel. She prayed desperately as Catren and Allwyn streaked to Serdun and, as they'd done with Griff only a short time before, pressed into Serdun, slowing the injured dragon's descent. Ardayn and Gallan flew below them, firing into the ground, creating a landing area in the midst of the battlefield.

Drogon and Rhaegal, hearing Serdun's yelps of pain, roared in fury and increased the intensity of their assault. They shattered bones and rocks with furious power, swooping closer to the ground, throwing up higher, stronger sprays of debris. Brienne didn't care. As Griff and Podrick had almost done before, she blindly threw herself into danger. Logic and reason were forgotten as her desperation to protect her dragon took control.

On the wall, Griff and Podrick cried out again, this time calling to her.

"Brienne, no!"

"My Lady Ser, stop!"

They were on the ramparts, unable to help Serdun, but she was on the ground, ready to save her dragon. She ran into the field of fire, not caring that her clothes and boots were burning. She ignored the calls from the men, the threat of attack from the Wights, the bits of steel and stone pelting her, the flames licking at her from all sides, the screams of the undead, the grunts of the archers and roars of the big dragons. All she cared about was getting to Serdun.

The other four young dragons were circling over where the green dragon had landed, firing steadily, protecting Serdun from possible attack. Brienne broke through the flames and fell to her knees beside her dragon. She sobbed at seeing Serdun was alive, its small body shuddering, with the sword still embedded, having pierced between wing and body. She knew she had no choice but to remove the sword. Leaving it in would cause more damage. Serdun shrieked as Brienne pulled out the weapon in a single smooth, swift motion.

Drogon roared with increased rage, incensed at hearing its offspring's cry. The shower of stones, bones and steel came closer. Brienne covered her head with her arms while leaning over Serdun to deflect the debris from further harming the injured dragon. She looked around frantically at the other four. The young dragons would be badly injured if they were hit hard enough or if other equally large projectiles were buried in the grounds.

"Sōvegon, zaldrīzoti!" she ordered. "Sōvegon!"

She waited only long enough to ensure the four uninjured dragons followed her order and flew straight up. Then Brienne gathered Serdun's wings close to its body and flattened herself on the ground, covering the injured dragon with her own body. Seconds later, Drogon flew overhead and unleashed its fire directly over them, making them the center of the firestorm, directing the barrage of debris away from them. Brienne gasped and turned to her side, letting Drogon see Serdun, now that they were no longer being pelted by projectiles. She pressed her face into the dirt, Serdun in her arms. Time lost all meaning as the flames roared around them, as she and Serdun waited out Drogon and Rhaegal's furious attack on the Wights.

Finally, the assault ended and another type of heat burned along her bare shoulders. Brienne opened her eyes and blinked rapidly as she adjusted to the light. _Light_. The heat she was feeling was sunlight! She looked up to see the clouds breaking apart, burning away as the sun attacked the chilly greyness with the same intensity Drogon and Rhaegal had used to burn the Wights. She twisted her neck to see the bigger dragons flying away, so high in the sky they seemed smaller than birds.

The four young dragons landed around her, turned away to face any possible threat, screeching and puffing, wings fully extended. Brienne lifted up on her arms to look around. Nothing moved in the blackened tourney grounds except lines of flames. Before, where there had been green grass, lush trees and abundant bushes now only a field of dragonglass remained, much of it still on fire. She lifted herself up to her knees, gasping as her skin, tight and sore from the direct dragonfire, stung with every movement. Painfully, she raised herself to a sitting position, Serdun cradled in her arms.

"Brienne!"

"My Lady Ser!"

Brienne looked back to the city walls and gasped in horror. Podrick, Jaime, Bronn, Balon, Ned and all the officers, archers and squires were still on the ramparts. Even from this distance she could sense their befuddled shock as they stared at her, alive and whole, even after sustaining direct dragonfire. She froze in horror. If she could see them, they could see her!

"Catren, Allwyn, māzigon naejot issa!" Griff ordered.

Catren and Allwyn left her side to fly to Griff. Ardayn and Gallan, picking up on her shocked distress, flared their wings and hissed at the men. They cuddled close to Brienne, giving her slightly more modesty as they pressed themselves against her bare shoulders.

Catren and Allwyn squawked as they brought Griff down from the ramparts, finally distracting Brienne from the horror of being seen, naked, in front of hundreds of men, with only an injured dragon to cover herself. Griff ran across the remains of the tourney ground, not bothering to dodge around the burning fires. Catren and Allwyn, squawking madly, returned to the wall, flying up to Podrick. Her squire rose on shaky legs but held his arms out for the dragons. She was distracted from Podrick when she saw the flames licking at Griff's breeches and jacket.

"Your clothes are burning!" Brienne cried.

Griff ripped off the leather jacket as he fell to his knees beside her. He slapped the leather against his legs and the ground until he'd extinguished the flames. Then he wrapped the jacket over her shoulders and took her face in both hands.

"Are you alright?" he demanded.

"Serdun!" Brienne gasped, loosening her hold on Serdun so Griff could see the injured dragon in her arms.

"I saw. I'll take care of it." Griff nodded and tore at his shirt, tearing it onto strips as he ripped it off his body. "Are you hurt?"

"Serdun!" Brienne said again, her voice rising to a shriek.

She glared at Griff. What was wrong with him? Couldn't he see she was fine? Why was he wasting time asking her stupid questions when their dragon was injured? He needed to focus on helping Serdun.

"Brienne, Serdun will be fine," Griff spoke soothingly as he pressed a strip of cloth to the wound on the outside of Serdun's wing. "Serdun was born of magic."

"That didn't save Viserion!" Brienne countered harshly.

Griff's eyes widened and his hands stilled for a second. Then he gently gathered Serdun into his arms and pressed more cloth to the wound on the other side. Brienne pulled his jacket tighter around her shoulders, suddenly cold with Serdun's fiery heat, even as the sun grew stronger and warmer above them. Her arm brushed her naked breast and she was distracted by the sticky, clammy wetness she felt. She looked down and cried out. Her shoulder, breasts and abdomen were covered in drying blood, Serdun's blood.

Griff, who had been winding his shirt around Serdun's body, immobilizing the injured wing, looked over at her and saw her rising fear. He held out his hand to her. It was streaked red with Serdun's blood but not coated as she was.

"Look, Brienne, look at my hand," he urged, waving in attract her attention. "Almost no blood. Fire closes wounds, remember? Serdun's not bleeding anymore."

Some of her desperation eased. "Are you sure?"

"Serdun's strong, Brienne," Griff tried to assure her. "It'll be alright."

"Serdun is only eight months old," she reminded him. "It's just a baby."

"My Lady Ser!"

Brienne turned to see Podrick, now also on the ground, with Catren and Allwyn over his head. He ran across the field, his arms overflowing with a black and blood-red, three-headed dragon banner and the Stark's greatsword, _Ice_, balanced on top of it. Her squire stumbled to a stop beside her, losing his grip on the items. _Ice_ fell to the ground but Podrick was able to hold onto the banner. He shook it out and held it up for her inspection.

The coarse material, though stiff and scorched, was far better cover than Griff's half-burnt jacket. Brienne accepted it eagerly. Podrick chivalrously turned his back as she shrugged off the jacket and wound the material around her midsection. Wrapped and carefully held in place, it was enough to cover her from her blood-covered breasts to thick thighs.

"My Lady Ser, is this the sword that pierced Serdun?" Podrick knelt down and picked up the broadsword by the long, muck-covered grip.

Brienne stared at the weapon. She hadn't paid much attention to it when she'd pulled it out of Serdun's body but she studied it now. It was exceptionally long and coated with hardened dirt, as if it had been in the ground for many years. There were no distinguishing marks but it was difficult to tell with the dirt and grime caked on it.

"It's not Valyrian steel." Podrick scraped away a bit of the stuck dirt on the blade. "How did it survive dragonfire?" He turned around to look at Brienne. "How did you –" He stopped and his eyes grew wide. "You're a dragon, too!"

Brienne blushed, unsure of how to respond to that. Behind him, the King's Gate opened with a heavy groan. Podrick turned and gasped.

"How did they open the gate?" he asked. "It wouldn't open before."

It didn't matter how they'd gotten the gate open. What mattered was that Serdun needed help. They had to clean and properly bind its wounds. Beside her, Griff rose with Serdun in his arms. The injured dragon was now wrapped up in his jacket. Once again, Brienne was struck by how blatantly the symbolism surrounding Griff revealed his heritage. He had the stunning fair beauty of the Targaryens and the sword of House Dayne, while cradling a dragon, the symbol of his father's house, wrapped in leathers marked with a gold spear piercing a red sun, the sigil of his mother's house.

Griff carefully shifted his bundle so that Serdun could rest its head on his shoulder and wrap its tail around his arm. Serdun cried softly and weakly rubbed its head against Griff's neck. Around them, the other dragons cried in response, rising up to stay even with Serdun.

"Podrick, the sword was under Brienne and Serdun during the battle. Take it with us. It might have value," Griff ordered.

Podrick tore his gaze from Brienne to nod to Griff. He looked at the heavy greatswords, _Ice_ and the one that had pierced Serdun, then quickly shrugged out of his leather and metal studded jerkin. Cleverly, he inserted a sword into each sleeve and rolled up the leather jacket, creating a single, large scabbard.

"Brienne also needs your shirt, Pod," Griff instructed.

Podrick removed his aged, dark red shirt without question. Brienne frowned and looked from her young squire to her king. Podrick was a foot shorter than her. What would she do with his shirt?

"It won't fit me," she protested.

"Neither will our boots," Griff explained. "Podrick, tear it up and bind Brienne's feet. The grounds are littered with weapon parts and burnt rocks."

"Dragonglass," Brienne gasped. "It's dragonglass. We can mine it to make more weapons for the Gold Cloaks and the army."

Griff nodded. "The Valyrian steel will go to the front lines and the lords who'll fight in the great war. Dragonglass and dragonfire will be our most powerful weapons in the wars to come."

Podrick quickly, efficiently wrapped Brienne's feet as Griff calmed the restless, anxious dragons. Once Podrick finished his makeshift foot cover, Griff held out his free hand to Brienne. She shook her head and rose without his help. She was a knight of the Seven Kingdoms. They were strong and independent. Still, it took her a moment to regain her balance as the blood rushing into her feet caused painful prickles. It took her another moment to muster the courage to face the men lining the ramparts and filling the gateway. She looked down at herself to ensure the banner covered what it could. Still she was well aware of her thick thighs, muscular shoulders and built-up arms, visible to everyone.

Griff led and provided partial concealment for her. Podrick was a step behind her, the wrapped swords in his arms. Serdun rested its head on Griff's shoulder and looked at Brienne with tired but clear eyes, reassuring her it was alright. Through the thin covering of aged wool, Brienne could feel the bite of sharp bits and the warmth of still cooling dragonglass. Worse, she could feel the weight of the men's eyes upon her, as they came closer and closer to the King's Gate.

"_Is that a woman?"_

"_Where did you find this beast?"_

"_You're much uglier in the daylight."_

"_Big Brienne."_

"_Giant, toe-headed plank."_

Jaime's voice, as he used to speak to her, harsh and cutting, played in her head. But his voice wasn't the only one, or the only insults she'd endured. A lifetime of being too tall, too broad, too plain, too strong and too masculine had given her a thousand hurtful memories, thousands of cutting words and even tearful nights as she'd learned to accept who she was. But even beautiful, delicate, traditional women were subjected to terrifying brutality.

"_They threw filth at her when the High Sparrow cut off her hair, stripped her naked and paraded her through the streets."_

Cersei Lannister, often called the most beautiful woman in Westeros, had been humiliated and traumatized when she'd been forced to complete a Walk of Atonement. That horror had broken whatever had been left of the former queen's mind, forever separating her from logic and reason. Brienne shuddered at the thought of enduring a similar humiliation. Then Serdun cried softly, perhaps picking up on her anxiety. Brienne looked at the green dragon, its orange markings somehow more prominent against Griff's brown leather jacket and naked skin.

Brienne's anxiety faded immediately as reality grounded and steadied her. She was no helpless woman, at the mercy of enemies and tormentors. She was the Gods' warrior and the keeper of their dragons. She would not be intimidated by other people's opinions or words. She would do whatever was necessary, even walk through the streets of King's Landing practically naked, to take her dragon to safety. She straightened her shoulders and tightened her hold on the banner, her head held straight, daring anyone to comment on her build, her flaming red, sore skin, her blood-soaked chest, her limp, sweaty hair or her battle scars.

No one did. The men at the walls and the gate, along with the few merchants and Gold Cloaks beyond them, were all silent as she walked through the archway, Griff just ahead of her, Podrick a step behind her and the dragons overhead. Brienne was so focused on keeping her back straight that she forgot about her bare feet. Podrick's makeshift wool covering had shredded during her walk across the field of fire, and now the cobblestones bit into her raw, bleeding soles.

She winced but steeled herself to continue moving. She had only taken a few steps when Balon appeared before her. The courtly knight swept off his coat and knelt. He bunched the leather at her feet and shifted away. Brienne stared down at the supple leather, and the sigil of black and white battling swans pressed into it.

"Ser Balon, your coat is getting dirty," Brienne protested quietly.

"Lady Ser Brienne, your feet are bleeding," Balon noted, just as quietly.

Brienne stared at the second son of House Swann. His expression was clear and direct, no disgust or cruelty marred in the gallant knight's face. She glanced over at Griff. Her king's expression was set and calm but the corners of his mouth curled up slightly. She looked back at Balon.

"My dirty, bloody feet will ruin your jacket, Ser Balon," Brienne pointed out.

Balon's expression didn't alter. "My Lady Ser, your quick thinking and actions are the reason King's Landing still stands, why we suffered so few casualties. You brought in the army and fought off the Wights until we could organize our defenses. You've endured enough for us. Please, allow me to cushion this one step for you."

Tears filled her eyes but Brienne blinked them back determinedly. Balon, gallant as always, had seen her wince and was trying to help her. Hesitantly, she stepped on his jacket. The soft leather was a welcome cushion against the sharp, hard cobblestone. Before she'd taken the next step, another jacket appeared on the ground before her. She drew in her breath on a soft gasp as she recognizes the worn, olive-grey leather, the hems singed from battle against Drogon. Wordlessly, she looked at Bronn's face. The knight shrugged and lowered his head. As Brienne stepped on Bronn's jacket, a cape of Lannister red was laid down next to it. Spurred by the first officer, others followed. Within seconds, the street was covered in a blanket of crimson capes.

Brienne stared, wide-eyed, at the field of crimson laid before her. The Westerlands officers, soldiers and squires lining the path and the walls bowed, eyes turned downwards. No one spoke, allowing the sound of the dragons' flapping wings to fill the silence. Beside her, Griff observed the men with open satisfaction. He whispered comfortingly to Serdun in his arms, then gently nudged Brienne forward. She looked down, focusing on the cloth under her feet, instead of the men she passed. Even though she knew Griff and Podrick were with her, and the dragons above her, she was still tense, still waiting for insults or garbage to be thrown to her, as Cersei had endured.

None came.

Once they left the little market at the gate, the crimson capes of the Westerlands officers gave way to rough wool and cotton. Brienne pressed her lips together when she realized she was now walking on the precious, carefully cared-for capes of the struggling shopkeepers at Cobbler's Square. The rough materials gave way to thicker cotton and wool, the garments worn by the wealthy merchants lining the Street of Steel. Then the thick raw silk capes of the Gold Cloaks, indicating they were passing the center square. Brienne's breath caught again when she walked over silks and fine linen. These were the cloaks of the lords and ladies of the great houses of Westeros. Even they were here, quiet and observant, sinking into bows and curtsies as Griff passed by them.

Brienne stumbled to a stop when they reached the gates of the Red Keep, staring dumbstruck at the heavy silk and leather jackets of the Dornish lords. Before her feet were three black leopards standing on a yellow pile on orange, the sigil House Vaith, warriors so fierce, they'd brought down Queen Rhaenys and Meraxes. From the corner of her eye, she saw Lord Daeron bow to Griff as they passed. The path to the steps of the Red Keep was lined with the jackets of the Dornish lords. The last cape, before they mounted the stairs, was a lilac circle with a white sword crossed with a falling star, the sigil of House Dayne. Ned, who had supported Griff on the wall, bowed respectfully before his prince.

The marble steps, now heated by the rapidly strengthening sun, burned under her feet. Brienne was aware that she was leaving big, bloody footprints behind her. These were her last steps before she entered the shelter of the castle. Her shoulders ached from keeping them so straight and her fingers had cramped around the stiff material she clutched to her meager breasts and full thighs. Still, she hesitated when she saw the landing was covered by a cape bearing a spear piercing a burning sun, the sigil of House Nymeros Martell.

Griff, with Serdun wrapped in a matching jacket, didn't stop, ignoring Manfrey's respectful bow. He brushed by the castellan without acknowledging him. Brienne exchanged tense glances with Podrick, who stood silently at her side, uncomplainingly holding the heavy greatswords. Griff had not forgiven Manfrey for his poor decisions. Brienne tried to step gently on Manfrey's cloak but it was hard for someone her height to move gently.

She'd expected the floors of the Red Keep to be bare. Instead, the hallway to her room was covered with the black and blood red, three-headed dragon banners of House Targaryen, a match for the one wrapped around her. Tyrion was waiting for them at the door to her chamber, along with a line of wide-eyed, anxious servants.

"We heard Serdun and Lady Ser Brienne were injured," Tyrion said quietly, looking worriedly at the dragon bundled in Griff's arms. "We've brought heated wine and water, clean cloth and fresh fish. Shall I have the maester brought here?"

"Not necessary, Lord Hand," Griff responded. "I know how to treat battle injuries."

Serdun turned it head and chirped at Tyrion, a sound the dragon hadn't made since it was two months old. Tyrion's tension faded and he smiled warmly at the injured dragon.

"You're strong, little one," Tyrion encouraged. "Recover quickly, Serdun."

Griff, Serdun and Podrick remained with Tyrion but Brienne brushed by them to enter the sitting room. Ardayn and Gallan came in with her while Catren and Allwyn remained with Griff and Podrick. She was silent and still as servants quickly deposited their burdens on the table near the balcony then bobbed quick bows and practically ran from the room. Her feet burned, her back ached, her head throbbed and her muscles screamed with every breath. She was grateful for each and every pain.

She was alive and whole, as were most of the people in King's Landing. They thought they were safe in the southlands, so far away from the Wall and the icy battlegrounds of the North. They hadn't thought the Great War would come to them, deep in the warmth of the capital. But it had. They'd fought and they'd won, thanks to the weapons the Gods had provided them and the champions they'd sent. The dragons, _Dawn_, _Ice_, Jaime's battle command, the Westerlands army and the level-headed actions of men like Balon, Ned and Bronn had led them to victory, this time. How had the Night King's army reached them? Why didn't the Night King himself appear?

Griff came to her and gently laid Serdun in its nest. He unwound the jacket with care but Serdun cried out when its injured wing was jostled. Brienne had stayed strong and stoic while fighting Wights; while preparing to sacrifice her life for the Gods' will; while protecting Serdun in the field of fire; and while enduring a walk through the streets of King's Landing, nearly naked before the people. But she couldn't bear her dragon's suffering. She fell to her knees, wrapped her arms around Serdun and broke.

Brienne sobbed, helpless to control the torrent of fear, worry and delayed shock. Serdun laid its head on her shoulder, trying to comfort its mother. Then she was surrounded by her dragons, bathed in their protective heat. Though the tears continued to flow, the heaviness in her heart lifted.

The Great War had come to King's Landing. They, the army of men and the warriors of the Gods, had repelled the first attack. She knew more attacks would come but she had faith. She also had a family to protect and to protect her. She was ready, strong, determined and, wrapped in the warmth of her dragons, she was loved. That love lifted her, that love steadied her and she knew with no uncertainty, that love would save her. She wasn't only the God's warrior.

She was the dragons' keeper.

**Author's Note: **Happy New Year! I hope you all had a safe and happy holiday season. I came back with this extra-long chapter after the long wait.

In the next chapter, Brienne will finally, _finally_ decipher the essential clue she received in the FIRST chapter. Have you figured out what the saltwater priest said that was so important? I referenced this clue multiple times and even stated it outright in chapter 38.


	43. Lightning Keeper

The Keeper 

Chapter 43 - Lightning Keeper 

Brienne dreamed she was on the tourney grounds outside King's Landings walls again. The ground was a field of dragonglass and silence. She looked around at the burnt remains but no one was there except her. There were no archers positioned on the ramparts, no merchants managing their stalls or Gold cloaks guarding the gates, nor did she hear the noises normally associated with a busy, thriving city. She turned in a full circle and saw no signs of life. Sharp pricks under her feet caused her to look down. She was naked, as she'd been after the dragons' assault, but this time there was no Podrick to bring her a banner to cover herself. She looked up at the walls again. The three-headed, blood-red banners of House Targaryen no longer decorated the walls. In fact, the walls were blank, without banners of any house. 

A chill wind caused goose bumps to rise on her arms. Heavy clouds hovered over the horizon, shrouding the daybreak in a blanket of gray. A cry drew her attention overhead. She looked up to see the black dragon flying in slow circles over the capital. As she watched, the color changed from black to dark red, with lighter red markings on its wings. The dragon had become Drogon. Drogon cried out, this time causing a reaction on the ground. A mound of dragonglass shifted and the wolf appeared from under it, its coat almost black from the blanket of soot and dirt. As the wolf walked towards her, its fur became lighter with every step. Brienne realized the darkness was falling off, almost shedding, as the wolf came closer. 

A heavy weight pulled on her arms. Brienne looked down to see her arms held out, elbows bent, palms up, as though to receive an offering. As she stared at her hands, a sword appeared on her outstretched arms, close to her elbows. It was the Stark's greatsword, _Ice_, the Valyrian steel shining as the red-tinged ripples reflected the weak daylight and the melted gold of its dual hilts. 

The dragon cried out and Brienne looked up. It wasn't Drogon anymore. Now the dragon was dark green with red markings. It had morphed into Rhaegal. She looked back down at her arms. Another sword had appeared. _Firestorm_, Griff's Valyrian steel sword, now lay next to _Ice_ in her arms. The sword, with its gold flame licks and empty center oval, was as unique and as powerful as _Ice_ beside it. She looked up and saw the dragon's color had changed again. The green shade was lighter and the markings had changed to orange, Serdun's coloring. 

Brienne looked down at her hands and wasn't surprised to see the tourney sword, blackened with age and dirt, resting next to _Firestorm_ in her arms. She looked up to see the dragon was now as blue as the waters of Tarth, matching Gallan and Allwyn's coloring. She looked down at her arms. _Lightning_, the sword of House Dondarrion, now lay across her wrists. When she looked up at the circling dragon, it was brown with red markings, Catren's coloring. Even as Brienne watched, the brown lightened until it was dark burnished gold. _Viserion_. 

She looked to the wolf, unsure of what she was supposed to learn from her dream. The wolf, now only a few yards away from her, stopped. It had shed so much color, it was almost a pale grey, matching Ardayn's color. She looked down at her hands. _Dawn_ lay across her open palms, its milky surface glowing with purity and purpose. She stared at the five swords, laid out in a neat row, unsure of what to do with them.

_Jaime nodded, his eyes dark and haunted. "Ser Arthur allowed me to hold it on several occasions. He even knighted me with _Dawn_. The blade was so sharp it cut through my armor, cloth and skin. I still bear the scars to this day." He touched his shoulder. "They are my most cherished possessions."_

Jaime had said that the day Ned had unsheathed _Dawn_ in the Throne Room. Even as she stared at the magnificent sword of House Dayne, blood pooled in her hands. The sword, sharp enough to cut through armor, was cutting into her palms. The other four swords, resting on her arms, began to prick her skin, all commanding her to see their true value, to see what was not seen. 

It suddenly occurred to her that she only saw the dragon and the wolf, both changing, becoming something different than they'd been before. Where were the lion and the eagle? They had been in her dreams before. Her heart began to pound. Had the eagle killed the lion? Had they killed each other? She looked around for them. 

There! Another mound of dragonglass shifted, as if in response to her concern. She saw the lion's hind legs kick furiously, throwing off some of the darkness, assuring her it was still alive. As she watched, the eagle, still holding fast to the lion, raised its head and screeched. It unfurled its magnificent, powerful wings with such force, it threw dirt, dragonglass and blood several meters into the air. Brienne closed her eyes and shifted away, trying to prepare herself for the pain of being hit by the debris. 

Brienne gasped and sat straight up in her bed, looking around wildly, the dream fading as she took in the reality around her. The curtains had been pulled back, revealing the bright, sunny day, though the sun was so high in the sky, she couldn't see it from her point of view. Serdun, curled up beside her in the sheets, chirped. They'd spent the rest of the day yesterday and, apparently, a large portion of this morning, in bed, recovering from the battle. 

If the rest had annoyed her, it had been worse for Serdun. She knew she had to allow her body time to recover and her feet a chance to heal after being cut on the tourney field. Serdun didn't like having its wing bound or being restrained when it wanted to fly. The little dragon, born of magic, was healing rapidly. By the previous evening Serdun, normally calm and stoic, began to angrily burn off its bandages each time Griff finished binding them. Finally, Podrick, who had the unenviable task of caring for both Brienne and Serdun, had suggested putting Serdun in bed with Brienne, so she could hold its wing still. That kept both of them occupied. Though Serdun didn't crave being held the way Catren or Allwyn did, it tolerated being cuddled in Brienne's arms while its wing mended. 

Now the green dragon unfurled its wings. Brienne held her breath as Serdun began to stretch out the injured limb. The action didn't appear to distress the dragon, which was a positive sign. Serdun squawked with its usual calm, even tone, another positive sign. Movement at the door between the bedroom and sitting room caused her to look up. Ardayn and Gallan sailed in with Podrick only steps behind them. 

"My Lady Ser!" Podrick called happily, a delighted smile stretching across his face. "Serdun." 

Ardayn and Gallan screeched, flapping their wings, equally pleased to see Brienne and Serdun awake. The dragons landed on the bed beside Serdun, closer that they would normally stand, indicating how concerned they'd been too. Brienne reached out to hug the two close to her while Podrick gently stroked Serdun's back, between the rows of spikes, careful to keep away from its injured wing. Brienne looked up and noticed something different about her squire. 

"Blue suits you, Podrick." She admired the new, deep blue leather jerkin and matching thin wool shirt. 

Podrick reddened. "Do you like it? I wasn't sure of the color." 

Brienne smiled. "It's perfect." 

"How do you feel?' Podrick asked, the color deepening in his cheeks. 

"I'm much better, as is Serdun." She nodded to the green dragon, who continued to stretch its wings. "Where's the king?" 

"In the council chambers," Podrick reported. "He's meeting with his councilors to assess the damage to the city, the surrounding areas and the people. Thankfully, it appears limited." 

Brienne nodded as she released Gallan and Ardayn. She threw the bedsheets aside and swung out of the bed. Podrick drew in his breath as she gingerly put her feet down on the soft rug. 

"Does it hurt, my Lady Ser?" he asked anxiously. 

It did, but it was bearable. She could sit in the council chambers as easily as she could here. At least there she'd be able to hear and know what was happening in the city. 

"I'm fine," she assured. "Give me a few minutes to dress. Take Serdun and don't allow it to fly, not until King Aegon looks at its wing." 

Podrick nodded as he swept Serdun into his arms. The dragon squawked indignantly but didn't fight to be free. Podrick paused in the connecting door. Brienne looked up when she saw her squire hesitate and open his mouth. 

"My Lady Ser…" he trailed off. 

"What is it, Podrick?" 

He was quiet for a few more seconds, looking down at Serdun in his arms. Finally, he lifted his head back up, his eyes somber and his mouth turned down at the corners. 

"I know I promised you I'd be strong and take care of everything but…" he paused and took a deep breath. "But I'm so glad you're here. Being on the ramparts, thinking I was losing you, I…I…" 

He stopped speaking and looked down again, drawing in his breath on a harsh gasp. Brienne felt a twinge in her chest, almost as if her heart ached. Ignoring her tender feet, she crossed to her young squire. Facing her death had been hard for her but it had been harder for those she'd leave behind. Her suffering would have been brief while they would go the rest of their lives with their memories. This was her family, the people who loved her as she was, without expecting her to be anything but herself. 

"I'm glad I'm here, too," she agreed. 

She put her arms around Podrick and hugged him gently, aware of Serdun nestled between them. Podrick leaned into her embrace while Serdun rubbed its head against her heartbeat. Ardayn and Gallan, picking up on their emotions, also flew to join them. They landed on the floor since there wasn't enough space for them to hover in the doorway. Brienne released Podrick so he and the dragons could wait for her in the sitting room. 

His bright smile, when he looked back at her, could rival the sun. 

. * * * .

A short while later, Brienne walked to the council chambers, Serdun in her arms, Ardayn and Gallan flying at her head and Podrick at her side. The castle guards nodded respectfully and put their hands behind their backs, to indicate they were no threat to the dragons. Serdun looked around with interest while Podrick opened the chamber door for them. 

Griff was standing at the far end of the table, at the position Daenerys normally sat. Tyrion was on his right side and Ned on his left, all three men focused on the parchment laid out on the table. Tanda sat in the seat beside Tyrion also concentrating on the papers. The group looked up when Brienne entered the room. 

"Brienne, how do you feel?" Griff came around the table to meet her. 

"Very well, thank you, your Grace," she responded formally, aware of the audience in the room and the guards just outside the still open door. 

"Good." Griff narrowed his eyes at her as he relieved her of Serdun. He looked her over from head to feet, his gaze stopping on the black flat boots she wore with her black and red dress. "How are your feet?" 

"They'll be fine," she assured him 

"It's good to see you looking so well, Lady Ser Brienne," Tyrion said, also coming to meet them. 

Serdun squawked at Tyrion, twisting in Griff's arms to look at the Hand. Tyrion smiled warmly at the injured dragon. 

"And you, as well, Serdun," Tyrion assured soothingly. "I was quite worried about you, little one. Does your wing feel better?" 

Serdun squawked again, this time softer, mollified by Tyrion's sincere concern. Tanda and Ned remained near the head of the table. Both nodded politely and murmured their welcome. Catren and Allwyn, who'd been sunning on the sofa by the windows, flew over to join their family. Tanda pressed into her seat, as if trying to put as much distance between herself and the dragons. Still, she looked from Serdun to Tyrion then back to the dragon. 

"The dragons understand you," she gasped. "The green one spoke to you and knew what you said in return." 

"It didn't understand my words, Lady Tanda," Tyrion corrected. "The dragons understand the tone of my voice, interpret how I interact with them and sense my feelings towards them and those they love. Dragons are extremely intelligent, understand emotions and intent, and are able to learn commands and battle strategy." 

Tanda looked at the five dragons. "I heard they flew formations, protected each other and fought off those terrible creatures." 

"They did, indeed, my lady," Ned confirmed. "They protected Lady Ser Brienne and Serdun, the injured dragon, when it was struck down." 

"Speaking of which, where is the sword?" Brienne asked. 

"Ser Balon went to retrieve it from the smith," Tyrion explained. "I sent it to be cleaned. It won't be possible to study it until it's clean." 

"Brienne, sit down," Griff urged. "You need to rest your feet." 

Her feet were starting to ache. Brienne sat in the seat next to Ned's position. It allowed her to see the parchments on the table. The papers were various maps, a large one of King's Landing, and smaller ones of the Crownlands, the southlands and of Westeros. Griff went back to his position at the head of the table, while Tyrion, Ned and Tanda returned to their seats. Podrick quietly slipped into the chair next to Brienne while the dragons, minus Serdun, went to sun themselves near the windows. Serdun twisted its neck to watch their flight but settled unprotestingly in Griff's lap. 

"Serdun stretched out its wing only a short time ago," Brienne informed him. "It didn't appear to cause it pain." 

"No pain from a sword wound inflicted only yesterday?" Griff ran his fingers along Serdun's wing, over the injury point. His eyebrows lifted when Serdun looked up at him calmly, giving no indication of pain or discomfort. 

"Serdun is born of magic, that might speed up its healing," Tyrion suggested. 

"You said fire closes wounds," Brienne reminded him. "Serdun sustained direct dragonfire." 

"As did you, my Lady Ser," Ned noted softly. "And Prince Aegon ran through the burning fires, not around them. His clothes burned but he wasn't harmed, either." 

"Brienne had to walk over dragonglass with bare feet." Griff's voice was tight and grim, the memories of the previous day still fresh. "That's what cut her." 

"Even dragons have vulnerabilities," Ned concluded. 

Griff looked at Brienne, his features perfectly composed but his eyes stormy. Something intense and potent darkened his indigo eyes to almost black. The fine hairs on the back of her neck stood up, as a wave of energy passed from him to her. 

"Yes," Griff agreed, his voice smooth and even, in contrast to his fiery eyes, "they do." 

The other four dragons, picking up on Griff's spiking emotions, sat up on the sofa and table next to it, sniffing the air. Tanda, sitting across the table from the dragons, cringed in her chair. Ned, with his back to the dragons, stiffened but remained in his seat. Podrick looked from the dragons to Griff then back to the dragons but remained silent. 

Brienne looked back at the dragons, too. She knew the five were as anxious and emotional as Podrick and Griff were. The terror of the battle against the Army of the Dead hadn't faded from anyone's mind. They would all be on edge for the next few days. Nothing she did would erase the anxiety so it was best to move forward, try to develop a strategy for protecting Westeros from future attacks.

"Did anyone see the Night King or whoever led the attack?" Brienne questioned.

"No, no one." Jaime, just coming through the door, answered. 

He walked into the room, Bronn beside him. Both nodded upon entering. Brienne blinked as she looked from Jaime to Griff. Griff nodded in return, his expression calm and civil. Jaime had never shown respect to Griff before, just as Griff had always shown disdain for Jaime. Now they seemed to be able to tolerate each other. The hostility between the Prince of Dorne and the Lord Commander had eased to a workable level. Even Bronn, who had always been flippant and dismissive of those in authority, looked serious and sober.

Brienne's eyes widened as she turned back to the Lord Commander. Though Jaime still had fading bruises from Cersei's attacks, his features were firm and controlled, his shoulders straight and his posture tall. He looked younger somehow. Then she realized she'd only known Jaime during his lowest points, during times of stress or suffering. Now he looked strong and sure, with a confidence she hadn't seen in him before. Jaime wasn't aware of her realization and continued his report. 

"I checked with all my officers. They each report the same thing. Waves of the dead came at the capital and the skies were filled with cold, heavy clouds. Then, as soon as the big dragons began to fire on the dead, the clouds thinned and started to break up. No one saw anyone or anything that seemed to be controlling the creatures." Jaime looked back at Bronn. "Did you hear anything else?" 

Bronn shook his head. "No. The archers only talked about firing on walking horrors, being fired at by very big dragons and the female knight who survived both." 

He looked pointedly at Brienne, who blushed to the roots of her hair. He raised his eyebrow at her embarrassment. 

"Huh, funny you should blush at mere words today," the knight said. "When just yesterday you showed all of King's Landing your –" 

"Bronn!" 

Jaime, Griff and Tyrion hissed his name, almost in unison, and glared at the knight. Serdun, still in Griff's lap, hissed. The dragons, already tense, sat up to watch the blunt knight, but remained by the windows. Tanda hunched further down in her seat. Ned twisted so he was sideways in his chair and no longer had his back to the windows. Bronn glanced at the dragons then at the men's angry faces and shrugged. 

"Well, she did," he insisted. "Anyone with eyes in their head knows she's a Targaryen. Normal people burn when they're fired on by dragons. Trust me, I know." He tugged on the singed hem of his jacket. "She can't hide it now. Her blood comes from dragons." 

Jaime, Tyrion and Griff relaxed while Ned and Tanda looked at the three men in confusion. Bronn snorted at their reactions. Podrick ducked his head and slouched in his chair, as if trying to make himself disappear. The young dragons settled back onto the table and sofa to return to sunning themselves, except poor Serdun, who strained its neck towards the sunshine. 

"I have some dragon blood but I'm the daughter of the Evenstar of Tarth," Brienne said quietly, willing her blush to fade. "Home of blue waters and abundant fishing." 

"Well, they must be putting something special in the water if they're breeding dragons," Bronn retorted. "Evenfall Hall is sounding better and better. I bet I'd be a great Evenstar." 

Griff growled and half-rose, even with Serdun in his lap. Jaime hissed in his breath as his glare returned full force. Tyrion massaged his forehead as if it pained him. They were all distracted when Balon arrived with several young men. 

"Your Grace," Balon nodded politely as he entered the room. 

"Welcome, Ser Balon," Griff sat back in his seat." Are these the swords I requested?" 

"Yes, they are," Balon confirmed. "The smith's apprentices have brought them." 

Balon stepped aside but the boys remained in the hall, their eyes wide as they stared at the young dragons. None of them moved to enter the room. Bronn rolled his eyes and turned to the boy closest to him. The apprentice eagerly handed over his burden and backed away from the door, bowing repeatedly. Jaime and Balon collected the rest of the swords from the other boys and carried them over to the table. 

Brienne studied the weapons they put down. The grips were covered in rough cloth but nothing could hide the distinctive swirl design seen only in Valyrian steel. All except one sword. That one was an ordinary steel, most likely the weapon that had harmed Serdun. Griff nodded to Podrick, who began to unwrap the grip of the sword closest to him. Brienne eyes widened when the cloth was removed and she saw the cords binding the hilt. She looked over to Griff. He caught her gaze and smiled slightly. 

Griff rose from his seat and motioned to Podrick. Her squire hurried to him and gently took Serdun from his arms. The dragon yelped indignantly but calmed when Podrick carried it to the windows. Catren and Allwyn, who were already sunning themselves on the table, moved aside to make room for Serdun. Everyone turned to watch the green dragon extend its wings, the sunlight gilding the orange markings, making the dragon look as if it were a part of the sun itself. 

"He's healing," Tanda whispered, straightening in her chair. 

"_It's_ healing," Tyrion correct. "Dragons are genderless, neither male or female." 

Tanda huffed. "That's convenient. No fighting over what roles men or women are supposed to play. Imagine the conflicts we could avoid if humans were genderless." 

"I wouldn't want that," Bronn said. "I like the difference between men and women. It makes life interesting." 

Tanda looked over at Bronn. "Did you hear that fool Wyllis Bracken got himself killed? My Lollys is still unmarried." 

"I didn't know that." Bronn glared at Jaime. "Why didn't I know that?" 

Jaime shrugged. "It must have slipped my mind, what with all the other problems we're dealing with currently." 

Griff walked over to them. "Lady Tanda, I've not had the pleasure of meeting your Lollys but I'm sure she's charming. However, I'd like to return to the matter at hand." 

"Of course, your Grace," Tanda reddened and nodded respectfully. 

Griff picked up the unwrapped sword from the table. The pommel was bound in simple cords of crimson and gold with no ornamentation on the hilt. Even without adornments, the sword was beautiful, slim and elegant. Griff turned to Jaime, the blade resting on his arm. 

"Since you no longer have _Widow's Wail_, I thought this would be a satisfactory replacement." Griff held the sword, with the hilt on his right forearm, out to Jaime. 

Jaime's face was wiped clear of expression. He stared at the fine Valyrian steel then up at Griff. "You're giving this to me?" 

"You are the Lord Commander," Griff noted. "Take it." 

Jaime reached out with his right arm. His golden hand, now mishappen, clinked against the fine Valyrian steel blade. He quickly put that hand behind his back and took the sword hilt with his left hand. Carefully, he held it out to check the balance. 

"I'm not very good with a sword in my left hand," Jaime confessed. 

"Then you should practice more so you don't embarrass yourself," Griff suggested, but his words no longer had the harsh bite they would have had previously. 

"Ser Jaime, what will you name it?" Brienne asked. 

Jaime looked at the sword again, as if the name might be engraved on the metal. After a long moment he looked up. 

"My family used to have a Valyrian steel sword called _Brightroar_. It was lost a long, long time ago. That sword symbolized the greatest days of House Lannister, the time the lions shone with power and purpose. Now we're at the end of our days, our light dimmed but not yet lost. I'll call this sword _Darkroar_." 

Brienne frowned at the heavy sadness in Jaime's eyes. Even with his newfound confidence, the past still held him. But he'd taken the first steps to free himself of those chains. His future was now only his to command. She shifted her attention away when Griff turned around with the next unwrapped sword. This one was bound in cords of black and blue. 

"Ser Bronn of the Blackwater, this is for you," Griff announced. 

Unlike Jaime, Bronn didn't hesitate to take his Valyrian steel sword. It was wider than Jaime's but still elegant and fine. Bronn stepped back and took some practice swings. The dragons sat up and squawked, but not in distress. They were encouraging Bronn, who twirled and stabbed an imaginary opponent for their entertainment. 

"She's a sweet lady," Bronn marveled, holding the sword up to catch the light. 

"A sweet lady," Tyrion repeated. "So that's what you're looking for now? A lady with a sweet temperament?" 

Bronn shrugged. "Temper doesn't matter to me. I can hold my own. As long as fortune smiles upon me." 

"That's a good name for your sword, Ser Bronn," Podrick suggested as he unwrapped the next sword. "For you value nothing as much as fortune." 

Bronn considered then nodded. "_Fortune_, huh? You know, I like it. Good _Fortune_ is my future." 

Griff, his back to the knight, rolled his eyes before taking the next sword from Podrick. This one was wrapped in cords of black, white and gold. Brienne heard Balon's indrawn breath when Griff offered it to him. 

"Ser Balon, your courage and chivalry are a credit to House Swann," Griff said quietly. "May this sword remain as strong and steadfast as you are." 

Brienne's heart clenched at the wondrous, uncertain pleasure lighting up Balon's face. That must have been how she looked when Jaime gave her _Oathkeeper_. That anyone would consider her worthy of such a rare and fine piece was an honor she hadn't imagined. Balon's sword was as large as _Oathkeeper_ had been, a perfect fit for the big, brawny knight. 

"Thank you, your Grace." Balon received the sword carefully and, like Jaime, held it out to test its balance. 

"What will you call it, Ser Balon?" Brienne asked. 

Balon looked at the sword, his brows furrowed. "I don't know, my Lady Ser. I never thought I would have such a fine weapon." 

"May I offer a suggestion?" she asked hesitantly. 

Balon smiled warmly at her. "I would consider it an honor for you to name my sword, my Lady Ser." 

Brienne blinked. The open warmth in the gallant knight's face couldn't be false. He was truly inviting her to name his sword. The jolt that went through her was the same as the one she'd felt when Ned had said it was an honor for her to hold his family's irreplaceable sword. 

"_It's said that you are an extraordinary weapon, too," Ned remarked, his beautiful purple eyes dark and solemn. "Perhaps this moment was fated. The sword of the Gods now holds the sword of the stars."_

That tender place deep inside of her that used to shirk away from praise ached, but not painfully. The constant warmth and acceptance from her family and generous people like Jon, Daenerys and Sansa had taught Brienne there were those who truly admired and _liked_ her. The honest, open acceptance of men of honor like Balon and Ned was genuine. 

"Valiant," Brienne said softly. "If your sword is a reflection of you, Ser Balon, it will be _Valiant_." 

Balon's smile grew wider, almost a grin, making the large knight look like an excited, overgrown boy instead of a sober, mature man. He nodded and looked at his new sword with pleasure. 

"_Valiant_," Griff repeated. "It means possessing courage and determination. An excellent name for your sword, Ser Balon." 

Ned, Tanda and Tyrion murmured their agreement. Balon puffed with pride as he removed his ordinary sword from his belt and carefully sheathed _Valiant_. Brienne looked around at the others. Podrick, seated next to her, nodded in approval. Bronn was too busy admiring his own sword to pay attention to Balon's. Jaime looked down at _Darkroar_, his expression shuttered. Brienne felt the twinge in her heart again. She knew Jaime had deliberately given his sword a sober name to remind him of his, and his family's, failings. Still, Jaime had taken the first steps to redemption. He had protected the people of King's Landing and led the army of men with admirable courage and swiftness. 

Griff nodded and turned back to the two remaining swords. Podrick unwrapped the ordinary steel sword and gasped. Everyone turned to look at her squire.

"What is it, Pod?" Tyrion asked, rising up on his chair to see the sword. "What's wrong?"

Podrick pointed to the base of the steel blade with a shaky hand. "I recognize this sigil. I saw it on a shield in the armory at Evenfall Hall on Tarth."

Brienne leaned forward as everyone, except Bronn and the dragons, crowded closer to see the sword. The weapon was long and slim, wrapped in a simple black cord, unremarkable except for the sigil etched into the steel. It was a five-point shooting star arching over an elm tree.

"Ser Duncan the Tall," Brienne gasped. "This is Ser Duncan's sword!"

The icy chill ran down Brienne's spine again. She remembered her dream; of the line of swords she'd held. The swords were important. The Gods were telling her she'd overlooked something crucial. She looked up at Podrick. His face was blank of expression he struggled to make sense of what he was seeing.

"A weapon belonging to Ser Duncan the Tall, your ancestor, attacked the dragon you named after him? Ser Duncan attacked Serdun?" Podrick shook his head. "How is that possible?"

"Ser Duncan didn't attack Serdun, his sword did. It's a message." Brienne groaned. "The Gods are trying to tell me something but I don't understand."

She told them about her dream from the night before, of holding the five swords, including, unknowingly, the sword of Ser Duncan. She also described the dragon and wolf who changed colors, and the lion and the eagle, still bound, freeing themselves from the dragonglass.

"It means something, I know it does." Brienne pressed her fingertips to her forehead, "but I don't understand my dreams until after whatever I've seen comes to pass."

"My Lady Ser's previous dreams about the dragon, the wolf, the lion and the eagle have all come true," Podrick explained. "She dreamt of the fall of House Lannister, how Lord Qyburn would lead to its destruction, and of the existence of the Valyrian steel armor and Ser Beric's Valyrian steel sword, _Lightning_."

Podrick launched into retelling Brienne's previous dreams, helped with input from Tyrion. Jaime, Bronn and Balon sat down at the table as Griff, Ned, Balon and Tanda listened attentively. Once Podrick was finished, they all turned to stare at Brienne.

"I agree that your dreams are prophetic, especially since you didn't know about the Valyrian steel armor or Lord Beric's sword before you saw them in your dream," Ned agreed. "The meaning of this dream will be clear in time, too. What I question is this sword itself. How is it that the sword was even here? Ser Duncan perished in the tragedy at Summerhall that ended the reign of King Aegon the Fifth."

"I can answer that," Jaime responded soberly. "It was after a tourney. Ser Barristan told me the story."

"Ser Barristan?" Tyrion repeated. "Ser Barristan Selmy, the only swordsman in the known world who could rival Ser Arthur Dayne?"

"Yes." Jaime nodded. "Ser Duncan was the Lord Commander of the Kingsguard at the time. He competed in a tourney here at King's Landing. Both he and Prince Duncan were defeated by Ser Barristan, who was knighted by King Aegon the Fifth after his victories."

"How does this relate to the sword?" Griff leaned forward to listen to Jaime's story.

"Ser Duncan was so upset by his defeat that he drove his sword into the ground when he went back to his tent. He was so strong, or so angry, he buried it past the hilt. No one dared to remove it. Then, when the tourney ended, the sword was missing. Some said Ser Duncan had removed it, others said Ser Barristan or another knight took it as a trophy. Now it appears that Ser Duncan, or perhaps the Gods, buried it completely. In time, it was forgotten, until it attacked Serdun."

Almost as one, everyone turned to windows. Serdun, who was relaxing on the table with Catren and Allwyn, looked back at them with a calm gaze. It appeared to be fine, though it hadn't been allowed to use its injured wing. Podrick was the first to look away and turned his attention back to Jaime.

"Ser Jaime, what is this sword called?" Podrick asked.

Jaime frowned. "I don't know. I don't think Ser Duncan named it."

Brienne reached out for the weapon. It was longer but slimmer and lighter than _Oathkeeper_ had been. She ran her fingers gently over the engraved shooting star.

"Would you like to have it, Brienne?" Griff asked. "As Ser Duncan's kin, you have a right to it."

"Thank you, your Grace." Once again, she traced the engraved shooting star. "It would be an honor to have this sword."

"It's not Valyrian steel," Bronn noted.

Brienne smiled and looked up. "I don't need Valyrian steel, Ser Bronn. I have dragonfire to protect me from Wights."

"True." Bronn looked back at the dragons and nodded. "Any chance I can trade a fine Valyrian steel sword for a dragon?"

"No." Brienne narrowed her eyes at him. "Not for all the _Fortune_ in the world."

Bronn shrugged. "It was worth a try."

"My Lady Ser, what will you name it?" Podrick asked.

Brienne laid the sword on the table and studied it. "I'm not sure."

"Perhaps something that associates Ser Duncan with Tarth?" Podrick suggested. "Ser Duncan's sigil has a shooting star and the lord of Tarth is called the Evenstar. You could call it Starshine since the sun and the moon, on Tarth's sigil, also shine."

Brienne stared at the sword. "_Starshine_. Is that a name Ser Duncan would have selected?"

"Ser Duncan isn't naming this sword, you are." Griff pointed out. "It should be a name that has meaning to you."

"If not starshine, how about Bright Star?" Podrick offered. "That would work well with the Tarth house words."

"I don't believe I've ever heard the words of House Tarth," Tanda commented. "What are they?"

Podrick sat up straight and smoothed down his new, Tarth-blue jacket. "The words of House Tarth are 'Ours is the light.' It seems that even my Lady Ser's ancestors knew that she would be the light in the darkness, the _Lightbringer_."

Brienne blushed. "No, Podrick. Those are our words because we keep the port fires burning. The lights of Tarth can be seen from most southern ports on the Narrow Sea. It allows sailors to find the port without triangulation."

"Triangulation?" Podrick repeated. "What's that?"

"It's a navigational method that allows a ship to find its destination by knowing two points of reference and creating a triangle to find the third," Griff explained. "What do you think of _Bright Star_, Brienne?"

"I like it." Brienne smiled at Podrick. "Ser Duncan's sword shall be known as _Bright Star_."

Podrick smile morphed into a grin, clearly pleased she'd accepted his suggestion for the sword's name. He blushed when everyone else looked at him and looked down to hide it. Then his eyes widened.

"There is still another sword here, your Grace." Podrick reached out to unwrap the last sword.

The weapon he revealed was long and slim, corded in lilac and white, with an ornate silver five-pointed star affixed to the pommel. Brienne looked over at Ned, who's purple eyes widened as Griff rose to take the sword from Podrick. Griff turned to Ned with the Valyrian steel sword in his arms. 

"I've taken _Dawn_ from you, cousin, for now. I vow, when the time comes, _Dawn_ will return to the mantel at Starfall to await the next _Sword of the Morning_. I know this sword isn't _Dawn_ but it's for you, Lord Ned." Griff offered the new sword to the young lord of House Dayne. 

Like Balon, Ned took the sword with care, staring at the clean, sharp lines, the distinctive rippled Valyrian steel and the silver star affixed to the pommel. The lilac cords were an exact match for the lilac emblem pressed into his jacket, the sigil of House Dayne, a white sword crossed with a falling star. Ned looked from the sword to the Prince of Dorne and nodded. He put his new sword down on the table and reached for the sword in the sheath on his hip. 

"Thank you, your Grace. Yesterday, in the rush to arm ourselves for the battle, I took Lord Beric's sword," Ned confessed as he laid _Lightning_, the sword of House Dondarrion, on the table beside his new sword. 

Griff nodded. "You squired for Lord Beric and he's betrothed to your aunt. It's understandable that you would take his sword." 

"What will you name it?" Tyrion asked, studying the two Valyrian steel swords on the table.

Brienne also looked at the table. Ser Duncan's ordinary steel sword lay beside the two Valyrian steel weapons. Though all three swords were well-built and sturdy, the blades of House Dondarrion and House Dayne were clearly superior. _Bright Star_ had been cleaned and polished but, like all ordinary steel, it would need to be oiled and sharpened frequently. Still, Brienne was thrilled to have it. It was another connection to the greatest ancestor in her lineage. She reached out to touch the hilt.

An icy chill slid down her spine, causing her to shudder visibly. Griff and Podrick both looked at her with concern. Even the dragons turned to her, squawking at her sudden emotional spike. Ned raised his head from admiring his new sword to look at her, causing everyone to look at her. 

"What is it?" Griff demanded. "Brienne, are you unwell?" 

"No, your Grace," she assured him. "I'm fine. I just had an odd feeling." 

"Odd, in what way?" Griff asked, frowning. "Perhaps you should return to your room to rest." 

"I'm resting now," she insisted. "Sitting in a chair isn't stressful. Plus, I'd like to hear Lord Ned's name for his sword." 

She composed her features as Griff looked at her with concern. Ned turned back to his sword, and the others did the same. Griff continued to study her for a moment but then returned his attention to Ned. Brienne slowly released her held breath. She knew she hadn't distracted Griff for long. He had an excellent memory for details and would ask her about her shudder later. Maybe by then, she'd understand her odd reaction to touching _Bright Star_. 

"I think _Starfall_ is a wonderful name," Podrick offered hesitantly. "It's a name associated with honor, courage and Ser Arthur Dayne. Can your home and your sword have the same name?"

"They can, Podrick," Ned assured. He looked down at the two weapons. "I agree, _Starfall_ is an excellent name for House Dayne's Valyrian steel sword. In a way, _Starfall_ is even a good match for _Lightning_ as both a falling star and lightning can split the world and change a man's fate."

Brienne glanced down at the three swords laid out on the table: _Bright Star_, _Lightning_, and _Starfall_. Ser Duncan's sigil caught her eye. It struck her how similar the shooting star on _Bright Star_ was to the falling star on House Dayne's sigil.

_Bright Star_, _Lightning_, and _Starfall_.

Two hurtling stars separated by streaks of lightning.

Brienne froze, eyes widening, blood flushing her face and icy cold chills racing up and down her spine as she stared at the swords. The saltwater priest had given her the vital clue the first day she arrived in Braavos. The Gods had been trying to remind her, with words, dreams and even physical jolts, when she touched the swords, but she hadn't been able to comprehend their message. Now, _finally_ she understood what the Gods' had been trying to tell her.

"Oh!" She jumped to her feet so fast her chair toppled over.

She gasped at the sharp pains in her still healing feet and put her hands on the table to steady herself. The dragons screeched, causing everyone else to jump up and look around in frantic concern. The five puffed up and extended their wings as they absorbed Brienne's startled shock and sudden pain. Podrick lunged for the table to gather up Serdun before it over-extended its injured wing. Griff crossed to Brienne in two large strides and caught her arms to steady her.

"What is it?" he asked, "Brienne, what's wrong?"

"Lord Ned, he said what you said," Brienne stared at Griff. "You said it and I didn't understand it then. I understand now."

"Calm yourself, Brienne," Griff soothed. "What did I say? What do you understand?"

Balon came up beside her to pick up and settle her chair. Griff guided her into the seat as Podrick returned with Serdun in his arms. Everyone stood, looking between Brienne and the dragons, aware they shouldn't sit while their monarch stood. Griff nodded to them as Brienne sat down. Griff leaned over her, a worried frown marring his beautiful face. Brienne breathed rapidly, her heart racing with her new knowledge.

"The saltwater priest in Braavos," she explained breathlessly before turning to Podrick. "We met him the first day. He gave us the clue about the stars but I didn't understand."

"Brienne, take deep breaths," Griff ordered.

Ned brought over a goblet of water for her. Brienne took it with both hands, shaking so strongly the water sloshed over the rim. Griff put his hand over hers to steady them as she drank.

"What was it, Podrick?" Jaime demanded. "What did the priest say?"

"On the dock in Braavos?" Podrick frowned as he thought back. "First he gave her clues to find Lady Sansa. Then he said 'Look carefully. You must see what is not seen.' I remember because he seemed stronger when he said it."

Jaime's brows wrinkled. "That has nothing to do with stars."

"No, after that." Brienne put the goblet on the table. "He talked about the stars. Why didn't I understand it then?"

She shook her head and stared at the swords again. How could she have missed it for so long? Griff looked impatiently from Brienne to Podrick, his eyebrows raised in question. Podrick looked at Brienne with concern before turning back to Griff.

"The priest said 'You are chosen. Your destiny was foretold in the stars before you were born.' That was all he said about stars," Podrick recalled.

"Before you were born," Brienne repeated and touched _Bright Star's_ pommel.

Griff also looked at the sword. "What does this have to do with Ser Duncan's sword?"

Brienne nodded to the trio of swords. "_Bright Star_, _Lightning_, and _Starfall_." She touched each of the three swords in turn. "You said it yourself, then Lord Ned said it."

"Said what?" Tyrion demanded. "We don't understand."

Brienne looked up at the Hand. "Lord Ned said '_Starfall_ is even a good match for _Lightning_. Sometimes both a falling star and lightning can split the world and change a man's fate.' King Aegon, when we first found _Lightning_, said 'A single streak of lighting can split the world, change a man's fate and create a _Firestorm_.' I thought firestorm meant King Aegon's Valyrian steel sword, but it didn't. It meant what it was."

Griff looked at Podrick then at Tyrion. Both shook their heads at him, equally confused. Griff turned back to Brienne.

"Brienne, we still don't understand." Griff shook his head. "Explain it to us."

Brienne turned from the swords on the table to look at her king. Griff's expression was a cross between frustration and concern. The dragons, at the windows behind him, were also tense, puffed and anxious, aware of her startled shock and racing heartbeat. She put her hand on Griff's arm, giving her a steady point to focus her whirling thoughts. She followed his advice and took a deep, steadying breath. Her body relaxed and her chaotic thoughts calmed.

"Griff, what important event occurred the night we were born?" Brienne asked, releasing his arm. "Why did Rhaegar believe you were the prince that was promised, one of the three heads of the dragon?"

"The red comet," Griff answered. "We were both born under it."

Brienne nodded. "A comet, a type of shooting star. What is _Dawn_ supposed to be made of?"

Griff paled as understanding darkened his indigo eyes. "The heart of a fallen star."

"What happened when lightning struck the men who attacked the first Lord Dondarrion?" she continued. "What happens when a star, like a streak of lighting, hits the ground?"

Griff's eyes widened. "It splits the world, changes a man's fate and creates a firestorm."

She took a deep breath. "I'm the daughter of the Evenstar, born at Evenfall. Even_star_, Even_fall_. Evening star, evening fall."

"Evening _starfall_," Griff gasped. "The location where a shooting star fell. You think the fire that broke out _before you were born _wasn't caused by lightning. You believe it was where the red comet hit the ground."

"Lady Ser Brienne," Ned rose from his seat. "Do you mean there's another fallen star that can be turned into a weapon? There's a mate for _Dawn_ buried on Tarth, at a second Starfall?"

Brienne looked at the swords laid out on the table, then up at the faces of the council members surrounding them. They all looked shell-shocked, wide-eyed and confused, trying to accept what she was saying.

"The Gods are guiding us," she reminded them. "They knew someday the army of men would battle the Army of the Dead. They're helping us by planting clues for us to find, when the time was right. House Dayne's sigil is a shooting star, their house, Starfall, built on the location where a star fell. Ser Duncan's personal sigil is also a shooting star, on a shield stored by the Evenstar at Evenfall, an evening Starfall. Yes, I believe there is something very, very important buried outside my birthing chamber at Evenfall Hall."

_Ours is the light_. The words of House Tarth were meant to remind the Evenstar and those who lived at Evenfall Hall to guide the people under their care. Selwyn Tarth had taken those words to mean the Evenstar must be a light among men, and had taught his daughter his values. It was those beliefs, of honor, duty and service, that had led Brienne to leave Tarth, to serve King Renly, then Lady Catelyn; to becoming the Gods' warrior and the keeper of their dragons; and finally, to become the sworn sword for the wielder of _Dawn_.

Now it seemed the Evenstar was also a keeper of the Gods' gifts. Could there be a second _Dawn_ on Tarth? _Dawn_ was more powerful than Valyrian steel, a conduit of magic and able to destroy Wights with a mere touch. It was so important a weapon, the Gods had allowed another _Sword of the Morning_ in a single lifetime when, previously, generations had passed before the world was honored with such a glorious warrior.

_Ours is the light_. The Evenstar and his descendants were charged with carrying that light into the world. That light guided people, illuminated their path, created a focused point to steady them in the worst of conditions and gave them a beacon in the darkest of nights.

Could that light be bright enough to lead them all out of the Long Night?

**Author's Note:** So, who figured out the importance of the saltwater priest's words? Did the clues I seeded make sense? Do you think this might be the break the army of men need to survive the Long Night? Please let me know your thoughts. I'm working very hard on creating this story for you. I want to make sure I'm on the right path.


	44. Aftermath Keeper

The Keeper

Chapter 44 – Aftermath Keeper

Brienne watched the expressions of the council members gathered around the three swords, _Bright Star, Lightning_ and _Starfall_. They stared at the swords, frozen shock on their faces. The weapons were still and silent, giving no hint of the shattering clue they had just revealed.

"We must go to Tarth," she insisted. "This might be a weapon that can fight the Night King and the Army of the Dead, perhaps even defeat them."

She tried to rise from her chair but Griff put his hand on her shoulder to restrain her. She glared up at her king and tried to shrug off his hand. He was immovable.

"You're not going anywhere," he denied. "Your feet need to heal and we're not sure there is a weapon buried on Tarth. We'll send a raven to your father. He'll begin the excavation."

"This is an important clue," she protested, still trying to shrug her shoulder under his powerful grip. "We must uncover it as soon as possible."

"Do you plan to join the digging?" Griff shot back. "What can you do that Lord Selwyn can't do, perhaps even more quickly than sending you to Tarth?"

She frowned but stopped trying to push against him. He was right. After so much time, the item would be buried deep and its exact location was unknown. It would take several days and many men digging to find it.

"Even so, your Grace, someone must go to Tarth to retrieve it and to guard it," Ned spoke up. "Tarth is an island on the Narrow Sea. Word will reach every corner of the known world once the Lord of Tarth, father of the keeper of the dragons, orders digging in his own courtyard. Everyone will know something of great value is buried there. Every pirate fleet, mercenary company and sellsword wanting power or riches will descend upon the island. Tarth may turn into a battleground."

"No!" Brienne cried out in horror. "Tarth is my home. I'm responsible for the people."

She tried to jump up from her seat again but Griff still had his hand on her shoulder. He pressed down firmly as the dragons, picking up on her anxiety, hissed and faced the room. Serdun, held in Podrick's lap, also hissed. Tanda cringed in her seat while Balon, seated beside Podrick, froze. Jaime, Bronn and Tyrion also stilled, even though they were accustomed to the dragons.

"There's no need for concern." Griff raised his voice to regain everyone's attention. "I already anticipated this eventuality."

He looked over to the four dragons by the window, ignoring the council member's shocked, incredulous faces. Griff's steady gaze remained on the dragons, who calmed and settled back, their tension easing along with Brienne's. Podrick and Serdun, seated in the chair beside her, also relaxed when Griff turned back to smile reassuringly at Brienne.

Brienne took a deep breath and her shoulders sagged with relief. Of course, Griff had a plan for this. That was what Griff did. He was the master strategist because he constantly evaluated and reevaluated possibilities based on changing circumstances. Many nights, while on board the _Sea Keeper_, she'd found him awake, studying maps or his well-organized notes, working out plans and processes for his future kingship.

"You anticipated this?" Tyrion repeated. "You already knew there was something of great value on Tarth and took steps to protect the island?"

Griff nodded as he released Brienne. He held his hand over her shoulder, as if expecting her to jump out of her seat again. When she didn't, he looked up at Tyrion.

"Yes, Lord Hand, I did," Griff confirmed. "I have men stationed on the island. It's well-protected and Brienne's father is safe."

"How?" Brienne demanded. "How did you know a valuable weapon was buried on Tarth?"

Griff shrugged and let his hand fall to his side. "I didn't."

Brienne looked up at him in confused puzzlement. He'd taken steps to secure Tarth without knowing the island needed securing. Griff was a skilled tactician, able to see many possible results to a single action. He hadn't seen this possibility so how had he known to guard Tarth?

"You didn't know about the weapon?" she confirmed. "Then what item of great value are your men protecting on Tarth?"

"Your father." Griff looked at her with the same steady gaze that had calmed the dragons. "He's been nearly overwhelmed by the armada of ships invading Tarth's shores."

"Invading," Brienne gasped. "Tarth has been invaded? When? By whom? Why didn't you tell me about this sooner?"

She looked around, as if expecting to see armed men burst through the door or shatter the windows. The dragons, except Serdun, hissed and puffed, looking for the threat that had alarmed their mother. She put her hands on the arms of her chair, ready to fight to her feet, if need be.

"No, Brienne." Griff put his hand back on her shoulder. "I used the wrong word. Your father is safe, Tarth is protected and the ships have all been turned away."

"Why was 'invading' the wrong word?" Jaime's eyes narrowed on Griff's hand. "Was the island attacked?"

"No, no one has attempted to attack and plunder," Griff assured. "Lord Selwyn has been fending off Brienne's legions of suitors."

"Suitors?" Jaime face drained of color.

Brienne flushed bright red. "Legions?"

Griff shook his head at her embarrassed confusion. Tyrion and Tanda both nodded sagely, while Ned and Podrick grinned at Brienne's bright blush. Balon, chivalrous as always, merely looked at her with his usual polite concern.

"Did the fuckers really think they had a chance?" Bronn snorted as he held out _Fortune_ and twirled the sword expertly. "Don't they know who the competition is?"

Brienne blushed even brighter red and looked down at the table. The dragons squawked, sensing her deepening embarrassment. Jaime and Griff both glared at Bronn while Tyrion groaned and shook his head. Tanda, Ned and Balon watched the dragons with concern, their eyes wide as the dragons began to extend their wings. All except Serdun, still held firmly in Podrick's lap. The green dragon stretched its neck to lay its head against Brienne's arm, distracting her with its comforting warmth. Griff walked over to the windows to soothe the other dragons.

"Brienne, how can you not know your own value?" Griff questioned as he placed his hands on Gallan and Ardayn's heads. "You're the keeper of the Gods' dragons. You have five of the most powerful weapons in the known world. Men will kill for such power."

"The dragons are not weapons," Brienne snarled. She raised her head and glared at her king, her instinctive drive to protect the five burning through her shock and embarrassment. "I won't allow them to be used in the wars of men."

"I know," Griff soothed her, even as he moved to stroke Catren and Allwyn. "I understand but those fools don't. I also understand human nature. Most men will accept your father's refusal to betroth you to them but some won't. The aggressive or desperate ones wouldn't hesitate to harm or kidnap Lord Selwyn in order to pressure you. I knew I had to keep him safe to keep _you_ safe."

Brienne's mouth fell open as her face flushed again. How could she have been so stupid? She'd been so focused on being the Gods warrior that she'd forgotten she was Selwyn Tarth's daughter. Once the young dragons came to the Dragonpit, they were no longer a secret. Even more, she'd led the five through the capital, causing Drogon and Rhaegal to follow to protect them. Anyone wanting to have influence over the dragons, Griff or Daenerys could have taken her father. She would have done almost anything to get him back. How could she have left him vulnerable like that?

"My father is safe?" She reached for Serdun, feeling suddenly cold. "Are you sure? How could I have been so selfish to leave him unprotected?"

"You're not selfish, my Lady Ser," Podrick insisted as he transferred Serdun to her lap. "You're the bravest and most noble knight in the Seven Kingdoms. A selfish person wouldn't have been prepared to sacrifice her life to protect the citizens of King's Landing."

"He's right, Brienne," Jaime agreed. "You don't understand how extraordinary you are or how much your contributions have already helped us all. Without you, King's Landing would have suffered grave casualties, perhaps even have fallen. You're only one person and cannot think of everything. Don't berate yourself for circumstances you can't control."

He paused to assess her response. She reminded silent and looked down at Serdun. The green laid its head on her shoulder, sensing her need for comfort.

"Brienne, we've been preparing for war against the Army of the Dead, reacting to changing circumstances and trying to do what's best for Westeros," Jaime continued. "King Aegon had the time and distance to plan into the future. He knew what the rest of us didn't."

There was a slight bite to Jaime's words, a hint of accusation when he glanced at Griff. But his wildfire green eyes, when he looked back at her, were gentle and understanding. Jaime smiled warmly and Brienne felt some of the anxiety knotting her stomach ease. He understood. Jaime knew the guilt she was feeling, learning her actions had left someone she loved vulnerable and even made him a target for vicious, unscrupulous people. Jaime was going through the same guilt, trying to accept his mistakes and still move on to an important, honorable future.

"Thank you, Ser Jaime," she whispered, hugging Serdun close. "But even if I'm not at fault, it's still my responsibility to care for those I love. I must learn to look beyond the immediate threat, to protect all those in my care."

Jaime smiled. "I have no doubt that you'll succeed, Lady Ser Brienne."

Brienne gasped softly. It was the first time Jaime had addressed her by her title as a knight. He had believed in her honor, trusted her to find Sansa, armed her, armored her and set her on the path to realizing her dreams. During that same time, Jaime had been losing his children, his hope and even the love of his life. Yet he was here, serving yet another king who'd sneered at him, doing what had to be done to honor their oath to protect the rightful King of the Seven Kingdoms.

"So, it's decided," Griff's voice was sharp as it broke into their moment. "Lord Tyrion, send a raven to Lord Selwyn instructing him to begin digging at the location where the fire began the night Brienne was born."

Tyrion was already writing on his parchment. "Yes, I'd do it right after this meeting. I –"

Suddenly he stopped speaking. Everyone turned to look at the Hand. Tyrion looked up from his writing, his face suddenly ashen.

"Lord Tyrion, what's wrong?" Podrick asked.

"The red comet." Tyrion turned to look at Podrick, his eyes so wide they dominated his face. "Remember what Lord Selwyn said about the red comet while we were at Dragonstone?"

Everyone else stiffened, looking from the Hand to the squire, aware of Tyrion's tension. The four dragons also watched intently, as if following the conversation. Podrick frowned and slowly shook his head.

"No, Lord Hand, I don't recall Lord Selwyn saying anything about the red comet other than that my Lady Ser was born under it," Podrick admitted.

Tyrion nodded slowly. "And I said…"

His voice trailed off as he looked from Podrick to stare at Brienne. His gaze fell to Serdun in her arms and Tyrion's face paled. She blinked and recalled their conversation in the _Chamber of the Painted Table _on Dragonstone.

"_The red comet," Selwyn murmured. "I'd forgotten about that." Then he smiled. "But that was a busy night. Brienne was being born that night."_

_Everyone stared at Selwyn then Brienne._

"_Odd, she doesn't look like a young child to me," Tyrion commented. "The red comet was seen about four years ago, if I recollect correctly."_

"_Yes," Daenerys agreed. "That was the year my dragons were born."_

"Mother have mercy," Brienne whispered, her gaze locked with Tyrion's. The color also drained from her face as she understood what Tyrion has just realized.

"What?" Jaime demanded. "What did Tyrion say? Podrick, why are they so shocked?"

Podrick frowned. "After Lord Selwyn said my Lady Ser was born under the red comet, Lord Tyrion noted she didn't look like a young child. The red comet was seen about four years ago, when the big dragons were born. Then –"

Podrick also stopped speaking as he, too, understood the significance of that conversation. Jaime looked from Podrick's pale face to Tyrion's equally stunned expression then to Brienne's frozen shock. He exchanged looks with Bronn and Balon, both of whom shook their heads, unable to understand. Griff came back to the table, equally stunned, and nearly fell into his chair.

"Two comets have fallen since the night Brienne and I were born," Griff gasped, his face as pale and shocked as the others. "One created a firestorm on Tarth and the other…"

"The other?" Ned prompted. "We know it can't be _Dawn_, since that star fell at Starfall more than ten thousand years ago."

"The other," Brienne repeated. "Aegon Martell Targaryen, you are he who must stand against the others. The one whose coming was prophesied five thousand years ago. The red comet was your herald. You are the prince that was promised, and if you fail the world fails with you."

Griff's indigo eyes darkened as he stared at her, absorbing her words. His hand drifted down to _Dawn_, the sword created from the heart of a fallen star, wielded by the _Sword of the Morning_, the promised prince who would bring the _Dawn _and with it, the end of the Long Night.

"The other comet fell north of the Wall," Tyrion whispered, as if the knowledge was a terrible secret that needed to remain hidden. "Jon Snow told us the Night King had become powerful only in the last few years. We discussed what changed to make him active. We thought it was Viserion falling north of the Wall. But that couldn't be the reason."

Brienne looked from Tyrion to Jaime in silent horror. Even Bronn, seated beside him, paled. She recalled their conversation at this very table when Jon had discussed the Night King's growing powers. They had all heard but hadn't understood.

"_Or is he looking for a queen?" Jon asked grimly. "The Night King had been contained by the Wall for over five thousand years, with few issues. Now he attacks the living to build his army. And his powers are growing so strong he can raise the dead even from beyond the Wall. What changed? Why?"_

"_The dragons," Missandei said softly._

"_What?" Daenerys looked at the five, who looked back at her, calm but alert. "They're fine."_

"_No, your Grace, I mean the dragons are what changed," Missandei clarified. "My life, your life, all of our lives changed when we came in contact with the dragons. They're creatures of magic. You told me the Warlocks of Qarth stole them and tried to chain you because they wanted the dragons' magic."_

"_Yes," Daenerys gasped as her eyes widened. "The warlock in the House of the Undying told me when my dragons were born, their magic was born again."_

"_Does that mean the dragons' magic is feeding the Night King's magic?" Jorah's face drained of color. "Does the Night King want to hold you like those warlocks did? Does he want you for his Night Queen?" _

"_That could be why his powers are growing," Tyrion suggested. "Viserion is a creature of magic. Magic never died, even when the dragons did over three hundred years ago. It became dormant. Now magic is strong, even able to create new dragons. The Night King is feeding on Viserion's magic, even before raising him."_

"The Night King is getting stronger," Podrick picked up Tyrion's thoughts. "King Jon said he'd been contained for thousands of years but only became active recently. It couldn't be Viserion's magic because the Night King had been building his army for several years."

"It was the red comet that fell over four years ago that made him strong," Brienne concluded. "It made all of magic stronger. It allowed Daenerys to birth dragons and increased the Night King's power."

Ned also paled. "You mean there are two more weapons like _Dawn_ in Westeros? Prince Aegon has _Dawn_, Tarth guards one weapon and the Night King has the other? The Army of the Dead has a weapon as powerful as _Dawn_? It's that magic that allows the Night King to raise the dead?"

Tyrion sucked his breath in on a harsh gasp. "That's it. That's why the dead rose around King's Landing. There was no sign of the Night King because he didn't raise the dead. _Dawn_ and magic did."

Ned shook his head. "That's not possible, Lord Hand. _Dawn_ has been on the mantel at Starfall for my entire life, ever since Lord Ned Stark brought it back to us. I would have noticed the dead rising around it."

"You had _Dawn_ but you didn't have magic." Brienne hugged Serdun to her. "Remember what happened in the Throne Room before the dead rose? King Aegon unsheathed _Dawn_ and it travelled the full length of the Throne Room. No man, no matter how powerful, could throw a sword that far. _Dawn_ pierced Ser Gregor, a man hovering between life and death, a creature of dark magic."

"Then Ardayn fired on it," Podrick reminded. "Ser Gregor was a creature of dark magic but then _Dawn_ was purified by a creature of the Gods' magic."

"Is that why _Dawn_ didn't need to pierce the creatures to destroy them?" Griff questioned, his hand resting on the pommel of the magical sword. "_Ice_, Valyrian steel, had to break the dead's skin while _Dawn_ merely needed to touch the creature. Its magic is that powerful?"

"I think so. But the dark magic, the impulse, had already been created when Ser Gregor died or was destroyed," Brienne continued. "I noticed it was getting colder as I spoke to Moqorro. I thought it was my nerves until I saw Ser Boros had become a Wight. Then the dead attacked and we fought against them."

"And we won," Jaime reminded them. "We had a defensible position, experienced fighters and knew what weapons to use. And we had dragons to destroy them faster."

"A battle that taught us how to fight the dead and gave Lady Ser Brienne the final clue to find a powerful weapon the Gods sent to us," Balon summarized. "They're arming and training us."

"Yes," Brienne agreed. "The clues have been here all along, in prophecies, sigils, house words, even our own actions, but we didn't see them until we needed them."

"Now we need them," Jaime concluded. "The war for the dawn has begun." He sighed heavily. "I wish you good fortune in the wars to come."

"What?" Bronn frowned at him, tucking _Fortune_ at his side. "Are you talking about my sword?"

Jaime shook his head. "No, it was something Ser Arthur said to me before he left for his last battle. _I wish you good fortune in the wars to come. _He didn't know it would be his last battle."

Sadness caused Ned's mouth to turn down at the corners. "I wish I could have known him. I heard my uncle was the most noble and honorable man in the Seven Kingdoms."

"If not the world." Jaime touched his shoulder, where the scars from his knighting were hidden under his uniform. "Ser Arthur was my idol. The most honorable man, the greatest swordsman and the finest Kingsguard the brotherhood has ever known. He was the best of men serving the worst of kings. Sometimes, I'm glad he didn't live to see what became of those who sat on the Iron Throne."

Brienne gasped as she looked from Jaime to Griff. Despite turning into a monster in his last years, Aerys had been Griff's grandfather. Griff readily admitted to Aerys's failings but Jaime's sons hadn't been better kings that Aerys. She held her breath, fearing Griff would take Jaime's comment as a slight against him or his bloodline. Griff narrowed his eyes at Jaime but his posture remained relaxed.

"Then it's good that the Iron Throne is no more," Griff commented. "The corruption is gone and the army of men are armed with its secret, the Valyrian steel swords."

"But the Night King is a creature of dark magic," Podrick reminded them. "We don't yet know if there really is a weapon as powerful as _Dawn_ on Tarth. Even if there is, the Night King has an equal weapon plus he knows magic from the Age of Heroes, before the fall of Valyria and in the time of the First Men. How can we possible fight him?"

"We're not helpless, Podrick," Griff assured him. "We won our first battle. As we speak, ravens are being sent to every keep and castle. We're instructing them to keep torches lit at all times and be prepared for chill winds. We know an attack of the dead is foreshadowed by a noticeable cold."

"I noticed something else. The Wights all had skin," Ned pointed out.

They all turned to stare at the Lord of Starfall, even the dragons. Ned blinked and looked at their confused faces, his own face flushing noticeably.

"Yes, they had skin," Tyrion agreed slowly, as if speaking to a dimwit. "That is what held their bones together." Then Tyrion's eyes widened. "It held their bones together!"

Griff looked from Tyrion to Ned, seated on either side of him. "What is the significance of that?"

"We thought the Night King could raise the dead anywhere he wishes, but now we know there's a limitation," Ned explained. "I have some experience in medicine and poisons. It was part of my education as the future Lord of Starfall. While I squired for Lord Beric in the Riverlands, I saw how long it took for skin and muscle to fall off dead men's bones."

Tanda shuddered but said nothing. Ned grimaced but continued when Griff nodded at him.

"In Dorne, the hot sun and hot sand will melt flesh off bones in mere weeks," Ned continued, "while the dead in the Riverlands lasted for months."

"Ser Davos explained the same thing to us," Podrick noted. "When we were discussing how long it might take for Viserion to rise. He said the colder the water, the longer it would take for a body to become putrid. It must be the same for temperature on land as in water."

Ned nodded. "As I said before, all the Wights had skin, something to hold their bones together and allow them to move."

"Which means the Army of the Dead isn't unlimited," Tyrion explained. "The Night King can only use those creatures that can move themselves. It can only raise the recently dead or those who have been preserved."

"Which is why the Night King brings the winter storms," Jaime concluded. "It needs the cold to preserve the dead and add to its army."

"Thus, the further south, the faster the putrefaction and the less bodies to add to the Army of the Dead," Griff surmised.

"How long does it take for a body to putrefy?" Tanda asked quietly. "The Riverlands are an army waiting to be risen. How many of those poor souls will join the dead?"

She looked to Ned but he shook his head regretfully.

"I'm sorry, Lady Tanda, my knowledge of medicine isn't that great," he explained. "We can ask the maester or his assistants. They would know about death."

"No, they won't," Tyrion disagreed, his voice grim. "The maesters only know about the living. They have no experience with the dead or interest in death."

"Oye," Bronn's eyes widened. "But we do know someone who cares more about studying the dead than the living. That crazy ex-maester is probably the only person looking forward to war against the Wights. He probably passes his nights dreaming about experimenting on them."

"Ex-maester?" Ned repeated. "Who is this man?"

Jaime clenched his hand into a fist as a shudder passed through him. "Qyburn."

"Where is Qyburn now?" Griff demanded.

"Traveling north with Jon Snow," Brienne explained. "He's pledged his loyalty to the King in the North. His family has been loyal to the Tully's and Starks for generations."

"He belongs to House Mallister of Seaguard," Tyrion added. "Home of Lady Ser Brienne's mother."

Griff looked at Brienne but his gaze was inward. She knew he was adding this new information to the knowledge he already had, seeing how this piece could change the landscape and potential outcomes.

"Where is Jon Snow now?" Griff asked.

"He, Queen Daenerys and the Dothraki have reached Harrenhall," Tyrion reported. "I sent them a raven as soon as Lady Ser Brienne returned to her rooms yesterday. I knew the Queen would be anxious until she understood why Drogon and Rhaegal had left her. She would fear it was _Dragonbinder_ that called them."

"Good work, Lord Tyrion," Griff complemented. "Send a raven to Harrenhall with Lord Ned's observations. Qyburn may know more that can help us craft our defense against the Army of the Dead."

"Yes, your Grace." Tyrion blinked, still unused to compliments from Griff. "While on the matter of battle planning, are the Dornish lords in position?" Tyrion made a note on the scroll. "Are the Dornish forces preparing for battle with the Army of the Dead?"

"They are, Lord Hand," Ned confirmed. He picked up _Starfall_, his new Valyrian steel sword, and sheathed it in his sword belt. "They have Valyrian steel swords and packed as many dragonglass swords and arrowheads as their ships could carry. They'll distribute them to the men guarding Storm's End, Highgarden and Sunspear."

Brienne frowned. "Why did they take so many dragonglass weapons? We still must protect King's Landing and send weapons north to arm the Unsullied and the Dothraki."

"Queen Daenerys and the Dothraki took dragonglass with them," Tyrion explained. "What they couldn't carry, the Ironborn will deliver when they dock in Maidenpool. Plus, Jon Snow's ship is sailing to White Harbor with all the obsidian mined from Dragonstone. The smiths there will create weapons once the ship arrives."

"And we have plenty of dragonglass here," Podrick reminded her. "Drogon and Rhaegal turned the tourney grounds into a field of obsidian. I'm sorry you and Serdun were injured on the field of fire. But we're all grateful the dragons turned stone into weapons."

"Stone into weapons," Tyrion repeated, staring at Brienne. "The prophecy. 'When the red star bleeds and the darkness gathers, Azor Ahai shall be born again amidst salt and smoke to wake dragons out of stone'. That's you."

Brienne shook her head. "No, I didn't wake dragons from stone. Drogon birthed the five from eggs. It already had the magic it needed to birth dragons."

"That's not the only way to interpret the prophecy," Tyrion insisted. "You were born the night the red star bled, amidst salt and smoke and used dragons to make _dragonglass_ out of stone. First your dragons found the Valyrian steel swords hidden in the Iron Throne, then they called Drogon and Rhaegal, thus waking dragons, dragonglass, out of stone and now you've identified another weapon, the bleeding red star itself fallen to ground. You are Azor Ahai reborn."

"What? No, I'm just me, just one person. I can't do it alone." Heat flushed her face and caused her throat to tighten. She was the God's warrior but she was only one person. She could not be a fabled hero responsible for the fate of humanity. She shook her head frantically as Serdun rose up in her arms, wrapping its tail around her waist and rubbing its head against the frantic pulse at her throat.

The other dragons flew to them, sensing her distress. Catren settled in Griff's lap and Allwyn into Podrick's. Tanda gasped and shrank in her seat. Ned and Balon stiffened in their chairs as Gallan and Ardayn landed on the table. They twisted their long necks, trying to find the source of Brienne's emotional spike.

"Brienne, calm yourself," Griff soothed. "We already know the prophecies are clues to guide us in battle, not a battle plan. Your contributions are great but you're not alone. We stand with you. No one person is solely responsible for saving all of humanity."

"That's right, my Lady Ser," Podrick assured her as he hugged Allwyn. "Jon Snow said we're all Azor Ahai, as we'll all fight the Long Night, _together_."

"We appreciate you were willing to die for us on the tourney grounds," Jaime added, "But we'll do everything we can to ensure you're never put in that position again. We fight together."

Brienne looked at him as she tightened her hold on Serdun. The sudden panic that had gripped her eased and she was able to breathe again. She had been ready to die for the people, if that had been the Gods' will, but was grateful for her life. She had a family to raise, a king to guard and a kingdom to serve. The future was a hazy but promising, if they could continue to band together and work to create a battle plan to defeat the Army of the Dead.

"Yes, we'll all fight but you're the Gods' warrior, the instrument of their will," Griff reminded her. "You see what we don't, understand what we can't. That's our advantage. We're not just fighting with weapons and warriors. We have the Gods on our side."

He was interrupted by knocking. A second later the door opened and Moqorro stood in the doorway. He bowed, his expression dark and serious. So serious, it made Brienne's blood pound in her veins. The dragons all turned to look at him. She looked to Griff, who was frowned at the Red Priest, then back to Moqorro.

"Moqorro, why are you still here in King's Landing?" Brienne demanded. "You were to take Ela and the babies to Dorne. The ship was supposed to have left at first light." She turned to Griff. "Did something go wrong? Where's Ela?"

The dragons, either picking up on her emotional spike or recognizing the babe's name, all stood up alertly, even Catren, Allwyn and Serdun, still in their laps. Moqorro looked from her to the dragons as he stepped just inside the doorway.

"The children are well, my Lady Ser," Moqorro assured in his grave, steady voice. "They set off to Sunspear with Ser Manfrey this morning. He swore an oath to protect them."

"With his life," Griff muttered darkly. "Ela is the reason Gallan and Allwyn escaped injury. He knows those babies are under the protection of the dragons."

Griff was still clearly angry with the castellan of Sunspear. Brienne ignored his dark tone to focus on the priest. Moqorro pressed his hands together and regarded her with his dark, serious eyes.

"Why didn't you go with them?" she asked.

"My Lord has work for me here," Moqorro explained. "He has ordered me to reveal my secret."

"Your Lord?" Tyrion repeated. "R'hllor ordered you to speak?"

Moqorro nodded. "Yes, the Lord of Light, the God of Flame and Shadow, the faith of dragons, the light that guides us all. He has shown me my path."

"What is your secret?" Griff asked. "And which of us did he order you to reveal it to?"

Moqorro looked at Brienne and Serdun then back to Griff and Catren. "To the blood of dragons, the unburnt, the light in the darkness."

"Then you seek my Lady Ser," Podrick spoke. "Kinvara, High Priestess of the Red Temple of Volantis, called her the light in the darkness."

Moqorro nodded. "Yes, the keeper of my Lord's dragons has proven to be the one who can carry my secret."

"What secret?" Brienne demanded.

"I did as my Lord commanded, my Lady Ser," Moqorro said. "I thought I had claimed a great power, one that no man has ever held, but you hold it already. You do not need to channel it. It already flows through you."

Brienne frowned. "I don't understand what you're saying."

Moqorro's facial tattoos brightened, as if a fire had been lit within him. "The power to command dragons. You don't need a horn to harness it."

"What?" Then she understood. A mixture of anger, relief and dismay filled her, almost robbing her of breath. "_You_! Youstole _Dragonbinder_!"

**Author's Notes:**

Several readers have asked me about ways to communicate with me other than the comments section. My goal this week is to update the profile page with my various social media contacts. I'll try to have that updated by Friday.

The prophecy interpretation about waking dragons as dragonglass out of stone came from a private exchange from **skyjadeprincess**. I liked it so much I added it in this chapter. Thank you, **skyjadeprincess**, for allowing me to use your idea.

Remember what Brienne said in this chapter: "The clues have been here all along, in prophecies, sigils, house words, even our own actions, but we didn't see them until we needed them." I'm not one of those writers who adds prose just because it's pretty. I'm trying to seed clues that will matter later in the story.

Did you realize that two separate red comets had to fall to justify Rhaegar's belief that Aegon was the promised prince and to herald Drogon, Rhaegal and Viserion's births? Does it make sense that a red comet landing north of the Wall energized the Night King?

Please let me know your thoughts. Your feedback really helps me plot and present the story.


	45. Vision Keeper

The Keeper

Chapter 45 – Vision Keeper

"Why?" Brienne demanded, staring at Moqorro. "Why did you steal _Dragonbinder_?"

She stared at the Red Priest in a mixture of shock, dismay and anger. How could a man who had shown such kindness for unwanted children be so cruel? He'd put her and Daenerys through days and nights of terror and sleeplessness as they feared for the dragons. _Dragonbinder_ was a threat so great, it could alter the balance between life and death. All this time, it had been in the hands of a man she had thought to be good and kind.

She was shocked by Moqorro's actions but was even more unprepared for Bronn's reaction. The knight slammed into the priest, shoving him into the wall. The dragons flared and hissed, except Serdun, confined in Brienne's lap. The other four dragons faced the priest, ready to defend their family from the sudden violence.

"You?" Bronn snarled, pressing _Fortune_ against the Red Priest's neck. "You tried to enslave the dragons?"

Despite the threat of Valyrian steel against his throat, Moqorro remained calm. His sad, serious expression didn't change. He looked from Bronn to Balon, Jaime and Ned, all of whom had risen from the table, their Valyrian steel swords also in their hands.

"No, I didn't try to enslave the dragons," Moqorro denied. "I didn't even take _Dragonbinder_."

"What?" Bronn removed his sword and leaned away. "But you said you took the horn."

"No, I didn't. Lady Ser Brienne said I did," Moqorro clarified. "I don't have it."

Bronn looked back at the other council members. He raised his eyebrows in question. Jamie, Balon and Ned resumed their seats. Brienne flushed as she realized Moqorro hadn't confessed to anything, not even to seeing _Dragonbinder_. She had jumped to the conclusion when he'd said she didn't need a horn to command dragons.

"I'm sorry," she said quietly. "Forgive me. The threat of Dragonbinder has me terrified. That anyone should have such power over the dragons is , I should not have accused you. Please, join us."

Moqorro remained where he was, pressed against the wall, even without Bronn to hold him. The priest looked from Brienne to Serdun in her lap, then at the other dragons gathered around and on the table. Ardayn and Gallan sat down and stared at the Red Priest. They ruffled their wings but remained calm. Bronn returned to his seat and put his sword on the table, clearly visible and in easy reach.

"Join us," Griff seconded Brienne's request. Though his voice was mild, the command in it was clear. "The dragons won't harm anyone who is a friend."

"And you smell of Ela," Brienne said, unable to hide the sadness in her tone. "They've already bonded with the babe."

The baby's name had a visible effect on the dragons. They looked around as if expecting Ela to be hiding in a corner. Moqorro's deep, dark eyes softened, as did his posture. He moved to the table slowly, as if anticipating another assault. The council members remained quiet as he came to join them. Moqorro sat down beside Balon, across from Bronn. The priest pressed his hands together and turned to face Brienne who sat further down the table, next to Podrick.

"Moqorro, do you know where _Dragonbinder_ is?" Griff asked, running his hand down Catren's back, between the double row of spikes.

The priest shook his head. "No, your Grace, I do not."

Podrick leaned forward, as much as he could with Allwyn in his lap. "Then why did you say you had claimed a great power, a power that flows through Lady Ser Brienne without a horn?"

"I follow the Lord of Light," Moqorro explained in his sad, serious voice. "I knew he wanted me in King's Landing for an important reason. One even greater than comforting unwanted souls as they returned to the flame."

His eyes were bottomless pools of black, the sadness emanating from his like a wave. Brienne felt the tug in her heart as she thought of Ela and the babies. They were safe now, on their way to Dorne, where skin colors varied by region and not by class. Ser Manfrey had pledged his life to their protection. The dragons also picked up the priest's heavy sadness and sniffed the air. Moqorro looked at them and breaded deeply.

"Then, a few weeks back, my Lord showed me why I was here. It was in my visions." Moqorro's eyes brightened, conviction and purpose igniting a fire in their dark depths. "When I looked into the flames, the same visions came to me, time after time, for a full turn of the moon. I didn't understand my visions but I knew my Lord was sending me an important message. Yesterday, a portion of my visions came true."

"What were your visions?" Griff asked.

The priest's eyes turned blank, his focus inward. "Dragons, great and small, circling around suns and stars." He spoke in a dull monotone, almost chanting. "A woman kneeling with flames in her hand; a man battling with his own shadow; a naked woman entwined with three blood-soaked red dragons; a fiery heart bleeding."

There was silence for a long moment as the council members all looked at each other. Moqorro's eyes cleared and he watched Gallan and Ardayn, seated on the table. The dragons and the Red Priest were all calm, as if Moqorro's visions had brought them peace. Even Catren and Serdun, held in Griff and Brienne's laps, seemed to relax. Allwyn, held in Podrick's arms, was already a limp weight, reptilian eyes half-closed, nearly asleep.

Tyrion cleared his throat. "You think the woman embraced by three blood-soaked dragons is Lady Ser Brienne? Did you see her face in the visions? You didn't recognize her?"

"No, the woman had her face hidden, as Lady Ser Brienne did, with her head down," Moqorro explained. "The dragons were alive, wrapped around her, marking her with blood, hissing and watchful."

"The woman kneeling with flames in her hand, was she also Brienne?" Griff asked.

"I don't know. Again, I didn't see her face." Moqorro shook his head. "She was in shadows but I knew it was a woman."

"Wait!" Brienne gasped. "You said 'A man battling with his own shadow'. That's how King Renly died. A shadow demon, created by that witch, Melisandre, murdered him. Does she plan to kill King Aegon the same way?"

Instinctively, she reached for _Oathkeeper_ but her sword sheath was empty. _Oathkeeper_ was no more, re-forged into the Stark's greatsword, _Ice_. Undaunted, she snatched up _Bright Star_, the sword of Ser Duncan the Tall, from the table and deliberately sheathed it at her side.

"It will not happen, I swear it." Brienne glared at Moqorro. "I'll kill that red witch with my bare hands before I allow her to take King Aegon from me."

The dragons, even sleepy Allwyn, all came alert at the quiet rage in her voice. Catren, in Griff's lap squawked, as the five looked around for the source of Brienne's sharpening anxiety. Ned, seated between Griff and Brienne, thus between Catren and Serdun, stiffened as he watched the dragons.

"Brienne, all is well," Griff tried to calm her. "I have _Dawn_ and dragons. A shadow will not find me so easy to kill."

"A shadow?" Ned questioned, his voice strained as he looked at the anxious dragons. "Renly Baratheon was killed by a shadow?"

"Yes, my Lord." Podrick stroked Allwyn, calming the dragon in his arms. "The red witch killed King Renly and my Lady Ser was forced to take the blame. It was Lady Catelyn Stark's quick intervention that saved her from being killed by King Renly's other Kingsguards."

He explained how Renly had been attacked by Melisandre's shadow demon. Listening to him tell the story of how Lady Catelyn had taken her into service calmed Brienne. She now understood how the events had connected to bring her to this moment. It was as she had explained to Griff. Sometimes the Gods used brutal methods to remove the men who stood in the path of those needed to fight the Great War. Renly had been a kind and compassionate king but he wasn't a battle commander. Griff thought a dozen steps ahead while Renly had barely even worried about the current day. Humanity would perish if left to the command of such a gentle, frivolous ruler.

"I accept what Melisandre did because I have no choice," Brienne said calmly. "But I will not accept her. Should she or her black magic come near me or mine, I will kill her."

She looked past Balon and Podrick to stare directly into the Red Priest's eyes, ensuring he knew her words were a vow. Renly had been a kind man but Griff was the future of Westeros, if not of humanity itself. She would not fail her king again. The priest nodded, his expression calm and serious.

"Melisandre's faith is true but her judgement is quick, my Lady Ser," Moqorro answered. "I'm sorry she has caused you pain. Your path is a difficult one but you walk in my Lord's shadow." He paused. "It was not King Aegon I saw in my visions. The man had dark hair."

"Well, that narrows it down, doesn't it?" Bronn leaned back and folded his arms. "All we need to do is find a dark-haired man with a shadow. It's sunny right now. It should be easy to find a man being murdered by himself."

"Visions aren't literal interpretations, Bronn," Tyrion sighed. "Lady Ser Brienne was wrapped in a banner with three dragon heads. She wasn't actually being embraced by three dragons, marked by blood, was she?"

"I don't know." Bronn rubbed his chin as he studied the young dragons. "I know she's been embraced by at least five dragons, if not more." He glanced side-eyed at Griff. "I bet they all put their marks on her."

Tyrion glared at the outspoken knight before looking heavenward, as if praying for strength. Ned frowned while Talda's eyes widened. Griff turned in his seat, his eyes narrowing dangerously as he glared at Bronn. Tyrion spoke quickly, shifting attention to himself.

"Isn't the fiery heart the symbol of the Lord of Light?" Tyrion asked. "Does the heart bleeding indicate he's sad or upset?"

"That cannot be." Moqorro shook his head. "The Lord of Light isn't a person with emotions. It is the balance of the world, the opposite of the Great Other."

"The Great Other," Griff repeated. "Lord of Darkness, the Soul of Ice, the God of Night and Terror. The ice that opposes fire."

"The Night King," Tyrion summarized. "That's the living manifestation of the Great Other. Does your vision indicate that a person must rise who represents the Lord of Fire?"

"We all represent the Lord of Fire," Moqorro insisted. "Each of us who hold faith with the Lord of Light are his. I did as he commanded me."

"What did he command you to do?" Brienne asked.

"To keep faith with those who kept my Lord's dragons," Moqorro explained. "Five months ago, I was sailing to meet with the Dragon Queen in Meereen. My vessel was caught in a great storm. The ship was destroyed and I fell overboard. Many days I clung to a piece of wreckage before I was taken on by a ship bearing the sigil of the kraken."

"Euron Greyjoy," Jaime muttered.

"Yes," Moqorro agreed. "His men wanted to kill me but I knew who they were, what they knew and told them so."

"What does that mean?" Bronn demanded. "What did you know?"

"That Euron Greyjoy wanted to marry Daenerys Targaryen to take her dragons and her armies," Moqorro explained calmly. "I also knew he had _Dragonbinder_."

Brienne gasped at the mention of the horn but controlled herself. Moqorro looked at her, as if waiting for her permission to continue. She grimaced and nodded.

"I told him I could read the glyphs on the horn," the priest continued. "He allowed me to study it."

"And?" Griff prompted. "Did you read them?"

"Yes, your Grace," Moqorro nodded. "They were in Valyrian. They said 'Dārȳti sīmonagon, dārȳti ropagon. Mērī se perzys dōrī morghon'."

"Kingdoms rise, kingdoms fall. Only the flame never dies," Griff translated. "What else did you learn about the horn?"

"It appeared to be over a thousand years old, from an enormous dragon, longer than the length of my arm," Moqorro reported. "When the horn was blown, the glyphs glowed first red-hot and then white-hot."

"You blew the horn?" Podrick asked, his eyes wide.

"No, I watched when the Ironborn men blew into it," Moqorro explained. "I told Euron he must claim the horn with blood if he wished to bind dragons to his will. He agreed to sacrifice his men for the chance to enslave dragons."

"Then what happened?" Griff prompted.

"We learned the Dragon Queen had already allied with the Kraken Queen," Moqorro continued his story. "Euron decided to bed the lioness who had seized the Iron Throne. He would wait for the dragons to come to him and enslave them after he killed all three queens."

"He planned to kill Cersei all along?" Jaime hissed.

"Yes," Moqorro nodded. "She was the easiest of the three to kill. She had no dragons nor was she a strong warrior. Cersei wouldn't have survived her first bedding. She had no allies, no gold and had enemies coming from every corner of the Seven Kingdoms. But she demanded proof of his loyalty."

"Which he did by using the _Iron Fleet_ to attack Queen Daenerys's ships. His men killed nearly everyone, including two Sand Snakes, then brought Ellaria and Tyene Sand to Cersei," Tyrion concluded. "She must have been thrilled. Nothing pleased or excited my sister more than fresh victims to torture."

As Moqorro nodded, Jamie suddenly jerked in his chair, his eyes widening. Everyone turned to stare at him, including the dragons. Jaime flushed deeply red and ducked his head. Tyrion looked at his brother with a mixture of pity, understanding and exasperation. Bronn snorted and shook his head. Tanda, seated beside Jaime, looked at him with dark, accusing eyes. Ned studied a knot in the tabletop with great fascination while Griff's mouth twisted, not trying hide his disgust. Balon, gallant as always, kept his expression calm and composed. Podrick flushed and ducked his face into Allwyn's neck.

The dragons, disliking the thick tension, looked around for the source of the strain. Ardayn and Gallan, still on the table, shifted closer to Griff and Podrick, unsure of how to deal with what they were sensing. Griff leaned forward and pulled Ardayn closer but let the dragon remain on guard duty. Podrick repeated the gesture for Gallan, resting his hand on the blue dragon's back for additional support.

Only Brienne looked at Jaime with sympathy. She knew how deeply Cersei had sunk her claws into her twin brother. Jaime had lived his whole life for her, accepting her as she was and as she presented herself to him. He could not be blamed for her cruelties or the pleasure she took from them.

Cersei and her cruelties were no longer an issue for them _Dragonbinder_ still was. In fact, it was a threat so dangerous they still hadn't found a way to counter it. Worse, they still hadn't found the horn itself.

"When did you hold _Dragonbinder_?" Brienne turned everyone's attention back to the matter at hand. "Was it when you translated the glyphs for Euron?"

"No, my Lady Ser," Moqorro shook his head. "It was the day Euron Greyjoy and his men were killed by dragons and krakens."

Brienne stiffened. "That was the day of the parlay, when the dragons came to the Dragonpit. You've seen the horn since then?"

Bronn straightened in his chair and put his hand on _Fortune_, still on the tabletop. "We've been looking for that damned horn for nearly a fortnight. You had it all along?"

"No, I don't have the horn," Moqorro denied. "I knew I could not leave such a weapon for weak and cruel people, such as Euron Greyjoy or Cersei Lannister, to hold. The destruction they could unleash would rival the Great Other. They would destroy the balance of the world."

"You don't have the horn, but you know where it is?" Griff surmised. "Where is it now?"

Moqorro's frown made his face look sadder and more serious than even before. "I don't know, your Grace."

Bronn rose from his seat and leaned over the table threateningly. Catren pulled out of Griff's arms to join Ardayn and Gallan on the table. Allwyn, in Podrick's lap, sat up, alert and ready to join the other dragons. Even Serdun, held firmly in Brienne's arms, strained to sit up.

"You admit to being the last person to see the damned horn," Bronn pointed out. "Now it's gone. You say you don't want weak or cruel people enslaving dragons but you don't know where it is." He snatched up _Fortune_ and pointed it at the priest. "Maybe I should cut the truth out of you."

The dragons hissed and puffed, alarmed by Bronn's aggression. Moqorro remained calm but leaned back in his seat, trying to put distance between himself and the threat. Podrick reached out for Gallan while still holding Allwyn. Griff leaned forward to pull Ardayn and Catren back to him.

"Ser Bronn, please," Brienne interjected, struggling to hold Serdun in her lap. "I falsely accused Moqorro only a few moments ago. Allow him to tell his story without threats."

Bronn looked over at Brienne then further up the table to Tyrion and Griff. Both nodded. Bronn snorted but sat back down, _Fortune_ still in his hand. Following his lead, the dragons all relaxed but Catren, Gallan and Ardayn remained on the table, ready to react if necessary.

"I saw the horn on board the _Silence_, Euron Greyjoy's ship," Moqorro explained. "I knew where he kept it, in the case under his bunk. The men loyal to Euron were being slaughtered while Lady Ser Brienne led the dragons through the capital. I waited until the Kraken Queen was removed from the ship and all was quiet. Then I took care of the horn."

"Took care of the horn?" Brienne repeated, her voice shaky. "You mean you destroyed it? It's gone? It's no longer a threat?"

Moqorro's shoulders slumped. "I tried my Lady Ser, but the horn was stronger than my powers. My Lord did not give me the gift to destroy the horn of a dragon."

"So, you just left it there?" Bronn rose from his seat again. "You let someone else take it?"

"Ser Bronn, sit down!" Griff commanded. "We'll have answers faster without your posturing."

Bronn turned to Griff. "I know what it's like to be fired on by a dragon, to see it open its mouth and shoot flames out at me. Not all of us are like you. We burn under dragonfire."

"Which is why we need to know what Moqorro did with the horn," Griff pointed out. "He'll tell us what he knows, which may help us find it. Many people, including those we also care about, will die if the dragons are enslaved. Now, sit down and listen."

Bronn looked from Griff to Brienne then to the dragons. Reluctantly the knight sat back down, his jaw set in a stubborn line and his sword still in hand. Griff waited but Bronn remained sullen and quiet. When he was sure the knight would obey his command, Griff turned back to Moqorro.

"What did you do with the horn when you couldn't destroy it?" Griff questioned.

"I hid it," Moqorro explained.

"Where?" Brienne demanded. "Where did you hide it? Did you take it off the ship?"

"No, my Lady Ser," Moqorro answered. "You saw my hovel. I have no place to secret a weapon as deadly and as powerful as _Dragonbinder_."

"Then where?" she demanded. "Where is it now?"

"I don't know," the priest's voice quivered. "I hid the horn inside the figurehead on the _Silence_. It was the only place large enough to hold the horn that wouldn't be searched. That's why I don't know where it is. The ship is no longer docked in the Blackwater Bay."

Bronn's eyes widened and he looked to Podrick. "We didn't search the figurehead. We only tore Greyjoy's cabin apart."

"His cabin was the only likely area." Podrick nodded. "Euron Greyjoy wasn't a man who would keep his weapons, the source of his power, far from hand.

"You did you best, Podrick, and I thank you for it. But we need to find the _Silence_. Where is it?" Brienne turned to Tyrion. "Where is that ship?"

Tyrion shook his head. "I'm not sure. It's part of the _Iron Fleet_. They need every available ship to transport goods and men. I believe Yara plans to gather her entire fleet at Maidenpool."

"Yes, that's right. I remember now. Yara told us her plans just after Jon Snow led the Dothraki on their march to Harrenhall," Brienne confirmed. "She expected to gather the full strength of the _Iron Fleet_ within a fortnight. They should be docked at Maidenpool within the next four days."

"What are their plans from Maidenpool?" Griff questioned.

"To travel to Braavos to pick up supplies and the _Golden Company_," Jaime answered. "At least, the part of the _Golden Company_ that hasn't already snuck into Westeros."

There was a sharp bite in Jamie's tone, revealing his disapproval of Griff's secret maneuverings. Griff merely raised his eyebrows. While the two were trying to tolerate each other, previous loyalties were hard to forget and old wounds still bled.

"The _Golden Company_ will be ready," Griff replied coolly. "I only brought the men I needed to ensure my protection and my rule."

"Please, stop this," Brienne pleaded. "None of us can change our past actions. Holding previous resentments doesn't serve us. We must move forward. Focus on finding this horn, on protecting the dragons."

Her voice broke but she didn't care. Her dragons' welfare, Daenerys's dragons, in fact, all of humanity was at stake. Griff and Jamie were both the Gods' warriors, with important roles to play in the survival of humanity. They couldn't lead Westeros forward if they continued to look back to the past. Both men looked away, their hostilities easing at the reminder of their common goals.

"Half the _Iron Fleet_ is en route from Lannisport," Tyrion reminded them. "They had to sail around Westeros. Those ships will stop here to pick up dragonglass weapons to distribute to the northern armies."

"The Ironborn are loyal?" Griff asked Tyrion.

"They're loyal to Yara Greyjoy," Tyrion confirmed. "They wouldn't leave Lannisport until she sent orders to sail for King's Landing. Yara pledged herself to Queen Daenerys in exchange for the right to rule the Iron Islands as she sees fit."

"Is she ambitious enough to try to take the dragons for herself?" Ned asked.

"Yara was the one who told us about _Dragonbinder_. She's seen what it does to men," Jaime said. "Her brother, Theon, has seen Wights. They understand the threat of the Night King."

"That doesn't mean that she, or another of the Ironborn, won't try to take the horn," Griff pointed out. "We can't risk it. Lord Hand –"

He turned to see Tyrion busily writing on his scroll.

"Send another raven to Queen Daenerys?" Tyrion finished. "Have her prepare a team to meet the _Iron Fleet_ at Maidenpool?"

"Yes." Griff raised his eyebrows again. "Take precautions in case the raven is intercepted."

Tyrion nodded as his hand flew across the parchment. The other council members looked at each other then, almost as one, at Moqorro. The Red Priest's expression was sadder and more somber than ever, his midnight eyes dark and fathomless.

"Dragonbinder is powerful," he said. "I saw a man die after blowing into it. His lips blistered and his tattoos bleed as if burned through. I thought no one should have the power to control dragons, other than my Lord." He looked up at Brienne. "Until I saw Lady Ser Brienne use it. The Lord of Light has blessed you with a great gift, his own power."

"It's not power, it's love," Brienne explained. "Dragons are intelligent and capable of great love and loyalty. We protect the dragons and, in turn, they protect us. Drogon and Rheagal love the young dragons as we do. We all joined together to protect, not to enslave, one another."

"Power can be a blessing or a curse, my Lady Ser," Moqorro noted. "Some, like Melisandre or Cersei Lannister, are seduced by it and lose their way. Others, such as you, hold themselves so tightly they deny their greatness. You refuse to see the true power you hold. But you must, for soon, you will hold the balance between life and death. When the time comes, Brienne of the Gods, I hope you will choose wisely."

Silence fell in the counsel chamber as everyone, including the dragons, turned to look at Brienne. She shook her head, as if trying to deny what the Red Priest had said. She was a knight sworn to honor her king, a warrior sworn to serve the Gods and a keeper sworn to protect the dragons. Her duty was to serve, to follow orders and to carry out the will of her king and the Gods. But what if the Gods' will was for her to lead, to inspire and to command? Did she have the strength do it?

She was strong enough to wield a sword, to become a Kingsguard and an officer of the _Golden Company,_ and to become the dragons' keeper. That was a strength she understood. She'd spent her entire life being criticized for that strength, told it was unfeminine, unnatural and wrong, that _she_ was unfeminine, unnatural and wrong. But it was that same strength that made her the God's warrior, the instrument of their will.

Did she have the strength to be powerful?


	46. Soul Keeper

The Keeper

Chapter 46 – Soul Keeper

Brienne continued to stare at Moqorro, confused and discomforted by his words. How could she, an ordinary knight, hold the balance between life and death? That power belonged to kings and military commanders, not to sworn swords, even if that sword was the Gods' warrior. Griff and Jaime commanded men and armies, were able to change the fates of thousands with their orders. The only power she possessed was the ability to wield a sword, use it to protect and defend those she loved. How could that strength change the balance of the world?

Her disturbing thoughts were interrupted by knocking. She looked past Moqorro to see a guard open the door to a young man, little more than a boy. The servant bowed deeply but remained in the hall, unable to keep from raising his head to sneak frightened peeks at the dragons.

"Forgive me, your Grace." The boy bowed again, his voice high and nervous. "My Lords, my Ladies."

He remained in the deep bow as everyone, including the dragons, stared at him. The boy began to shake visibly. The guards behind him grimaced and shifted away, their hands behind their backs. Brienne hugged Serdun close to her. The green dragon, stoic as usual, tolerated her cuddling with its normal aplomb. Podrick put his hand on Gallan's back, keeping hold on the dragon seated closest to the door.

"Do you have a message for us?" Griff half-rose to pull Catren and Ardayn closer to him, disturbing the parchments on the table in the process.

The crinkling papers made the boy jerk nervously. He shifted his attention away from Gallan to Catren and Ardayn. He nodded but didn't speak, still bent in a deep bow. Bronn, still irritated from his previous exchange with Moqorro, glared at the frightened, shivering servant. He pointed _Fortune_ at the hapless child.

"Well?" the knight demanded. "Are you going to tell us or should we just guess? Maybe you'd like to put on a little play for us?"

The boy straightened quickly, color flushing his face. The dragons, unlike Bronn, were calm and watched the servant with only polite interest. The servant looked from the angry knight to the relaxed dragons, as if not knowing which threat was greater.

"Bronn!" Tyrion hissed.

Bronn put his sword down at his side, which seemed to calm the young servant. Moqorro, closest to the door, nodded, which also seemed to help the frightened boy. He took a deep breath and gathered himself, but still remained outside the chamber door.

"Speak, child," Tanda said, her voice strong and bracing. "As you see, the dragons are well-mannered. They won't hurt you. We'll manage Ser Bronn, if necessary."

"I can't be managed." Bronn glared at the Lady of Stokeworth. "I'm a knight."

"You're a fool, Ser Bronn, if you think knighthood frees a man from the restraints of society." Tanda met his glare with her own direct, narrowed gaze. "Especially when that man wants the acceptance of society. Odd, you didn't strike me as stupid when we met before."

Bronn's eyes widened at Tanda's cool retort. The knight sat up in his seat and cleared his throat. Tanda smiled coolly while Tyrion, seated next to her, massaged his forehead as if it pained him. Griff, seated at the head of the table, watched them impassively, as if taking measure of Lady of Stokeworth. He looked back at the young servant.

"What news do you bring?" Griff asked the boy.

"Two armies have arrived, your Grace." The young servant spoke in a rush, as if eager to say what needed to be said.

"Two?" Griff repeated with a frown.

"Two?" Tyrion also frowned but it was directed at Griff. "Meaning you were expecting _an_ army but not two?"

Griff ignored the Hand to focus on the servant. The boy had managed to control his shivers now that he'd seen the dragons – and Bronn – remain controlled and calm.

"What are their banners?" Jaime demanded.

"One thousand men arrived by land. The carry the banner of a roaring golden lion on a field of crimson," the boy reported.

"The rest of the Westerlands forces," Jaime murmured. "from the further castles and keeps. I'll take command of them."

"What is the banner of the other army?" Tyrion asked.

"Three ships have docked in Blackwater Bay," the boy answered. "They raised banners of solid gold."

Tyrion looked at Griff, his eyes narrowed. "The _Golden Company_ has arrived."

"No, just some of my men," Griff corrected. "Most of the _Golden Company_ is still in Essos."

"We just survived our first battle with the Army of the Dead and your concern is still on taking over Westeros?" Jaime demanded. "We need men to fight the dead, not focus on putting a crown on your head."

Griff's indigo eyes darkened until they were nearly black. The air around him crackled with fury but his expression remained calm. The dragons stiffened, sensing their father's anger, but they displayed the same control he did. They turned their heads to look from Griff to Jaime then back again, quiet but alert.

"My men are trying to identify all the damage done by Cersei and your sons' disastrous reigns," Griff explained with icy calm. "Their selfish and stupid decisions have crippled the Riverlands and the Reach, alienated the North and the Vale, bankrupted the kingdom and put all of Westeros on the brink of starvation. Your sister and your sons, and even you, chose to host banquets and wage wars while innocent people _died_ for your hubris. Someone has to address this mess since the Lannisters cannot."

Jaime's face flushed and his mouth dropped open. He took a deep breath and looked over at his brother. Tyrion's face also flushed and he looked down at the table. Griff continued to study the brothers, his expression controlled and rigid. Tanda, seated beside Tyrion, turned back to the young servant.

"Is that all, child?" she asked. "Do you have more to report?"

"No, my Lady." The boy bowed again and took a small step back, clearly eager to get away from the dangerous dragons – all six of them.

Tanda nodded. "You are dismissed."

The boy nodded again and turned so fast his boots squeaked on the polished marble. The guard quickly shut the door, equally eager to put distance between himself and the dragons. Bronn, seated next to Jaime, looked over at the Lord Commander and sighed.

Brienne also looked at Jaime. Sadness welled up inside her at seeing his miserable expression. She knew he was hurting but couldn't sympathize with him. Jaime might be sorry for his actions, now that he saw how destructive they'd been, but it didn't change what happened. He had done Cersei's bidding, had stood by while his sons mismanaged their rule and allowed innocents to suffer because he didn't want to stand against his family.

Actions had consequences. The lions had brutalized Westeros until someone stood against them. Once challenged, House Lannister had fallen, destroyed by their own actions, with no allies to stand with them. Jon and Sansa had rebuilt House Stark and reclaimed Winterfell because they had the loyalty of their vassal houses and bannermen. Those men had stood, fought and died with the wolves. No one had stood with the lions after Cersei, as Queen Regent and then Queen, had dismissed and diminished them and their houses by surrounding herself with weak, incompetent advisors and sycophants.ouHouseh

"If your men are out identifying the damage, then why are there three warships here?" Tyrion asked.

Though the words were accusatory, his tone was not. The Hand spoke quietly, as aware as Jaime that he and his family had been party to the suffering of thousands of innocent people. Tyrion, like Jaime, regretted his part in bringing suffering, but was equally unable to repair the damage. The people of the Bay of Dragons were still fighting daily for their survival, now that Daenerys and her dragons had left them to become Queen of the Seven Kingdoms.

"To give their reports on several important projects," Griff explained. "Unlike you and your queen, I've not been sitting idle, expecting the wounds of war to heal themselves. The people need help to recover from being mauled by the lions and their agents."

As if on cue, a knock sounded on the chamber door. Everyone turned as the door opened. Varys, dressed in his customary robes, stood in the doorway. As he often did, the Spider had his hands pressed together under his sleeves and wore his usual expression of bland politeness. He walked into the chamber, out of the shadows of the hallway and into the brilliant sunshine pouring in from the windows. Tyrion, Jaime, Bronn, Brienne and Podrick all gasped as they stared at him.

The former Master of Whispers had always had a shiny, smooth head, bald of even the slightest wisps of hair. Now his head was covered in a thick layer of silver-blond stubble. Varys had a head of very short, Targaryen silver-blond hair.

"What the…?" Tyrion was so flabbergasted he couldn't even compose the rest of his sentence.

Jaime looked from Varys to Griff then back to Varys. He seemed as lost for words as his brother. Everyone else continued to stare at the Spider. Griff, Tanda, Ned, Balon and Moqorro didn't share the sense of shock so they only stared at the Spider with confusion. The dragons all looked at Varys then sniffed the air. They sensed the shock in the room but didn't understand what had caused it. It was Podrick who finally spoke up.

"Lord Varys, you're a dragon, too?" he gasped.

"Huh." Bronn rubbed his chin thoughtfully. "You know, it wasn't all that long ago that I'd never seen a Wight or a dragon and that little blonde girl was the last Targaryen." He shrugged. "Now, we've got Targaryens and dragons behind every door and we're all about to freeze our balls off fighting those damned Wights." He paused. "Well, those of us who have balls."

It was a testament to how shocked Tyrion and Jaime were that they didn't glare at Bronn. Griff narrowed his eyes at the knight but Bronn only shrugged. Varys's lips tightened slightly in what might have been the beginnings of a smile. He nodded at the young squire then bowed to Griff.

"No, I'm not a Targaryen," Varys answered. "I was born a slave in Lys. I believe my roots have their origins in Valyria but there is no way to prove it." His gaze shifted to Tyrion and the faint hint of smile faded, his features hardening. "One man believed I had royal blood. He regrets it now."

Tyrion's eyes widened. "The sorcerer."

Tanda looked from Varys to Tyrion. "What sorcerer? Is there a sorcerer working with the Night King?"

Tyrion closed his eyes and shook his head, as if to clear it. "Never mind. It's a story from Lord Varys's past. It's not relevant here." He paused. "Is it?"

"No, it isn't," Varys stated in a flat, cold tone.

"Lord Varys, join us." Griff gestured to the chair beside Bronn's. "What is your report?"

Varys obediently sat down but hesitated before speaking. He looked at Griff, then Tyrion with obvious concern.

"What?" Tyrion demanded. "Why do you hesitate?"

Instead of answering, Varys shifted his gaze to Griff. The former Master of Whispers raised his brow, as if in question. Griff nodded, understanding the Spider's unspoken question.

"Lord Varys, what you've learned, what my men have done, is for the good of the kingdom," Griff said quietly. "These outcomes will determine our strategy to fight the Army of the Dead and cannot be hidden. Speak freely."

"Yes, your Grace." Varys nodded. "I'm pleased to report your men have successfully taken control of Storm's End, Rosby and Highgarden. The new lords have met with representatives of their vassal houses and all have pledged themselves to House Targaryen."

"Good," Griff nodded. "I was confident of their loyalty. Now, what about their conditions?"

"The Stormlands, like the Crownlands, have suffered very little damage," Varys reported. "Even more, strong leaders, such as Lord Gulian Swann and Lord Selwyn Tarth, ensured their people are safe and their homes protected."

The dragons squawked at hearing Selwyn's name. They looked around for Brienne's father. The five cried out when they didn't see him. Griff and Podrick leaned forward to calm them. The dragons had bonded easily with their grandfather, considering him an extension of their mother. Brienne hugged Serdun who, despite its aloof nature, was as upset at not seeing Selwyn as the others.

She understood their disappointment but couldn't help but sit up straighter at the mention of her father as a strong leader. She exchanged glances with Balon, who also sat up, pride shining in his dark eyes. They were both children of honorable men, raised to emulate their fathers' beliefs in service and responsibility. Selwyn and Gulian were living examples of their teachings.

"I expected as much," Griff agreed. "Has Commander Strickland taken control of the Reach? We cannot allow the region to fall into anarchy."

"Lord Strickland has strong command of his forces and the bannermen," Varys assured. "He sent representatives to Cider Hall, Honeyhold and Oldtown. As we speak, five thousand men march along the Roseroad."

"The waterways and the main road are clear?" Griff prompted.

Griff pulled the map of the southlands closer to study it. Gently, he pushed Catren and Ardayn away. The dragons shifted back, familiar with this habit. It reminded Brienne of the nights when, unable to sleep, Griff would pass the hours poring over maps. She'd seen him make notes of the houses that had fallen in the War of the Five Kings, to anticipate the changing fates of the people and regions fighting for survival. Now she understood why he'd spent so much time and effort to learn about the plight of the people. Griff understood what Daenerys, Cersei, Tommen, Joffrey and even Jon didn't. He knew he had to satisfy the people's needs in order to save the kingdom.

"Mostly, but there are still isolated pockets of bandits." Varys admitted. "Lord Strickland's men have been putting them down with little resistance. Disorganized looters stand no chance against the disciplined forces of the _Golden Company_ and the Dornish. All of the houses in the Reach have pledged to House Targaryen." Varys paused them smiled his faint smile again. "Your quick actions saved the Reach from suffering the same fate as the Riverlands, your Grace."

Griff grimaced. "Sadly, I wasn't quick enough to save the people in the Riverlands from disaster. What of them, Lord Varys? How do they fare?"

Brienne blinked at she looked at Griff. She knew he'd sent his men into the southlands, to take the castles promised to them by contract to the _Golden Company_ and to make pathways for the Dornish to enter undetected. Doing so had given him control of three of the most powerful regions and the Crownlands. Had Griff also sent men into the lawless Riverlands? Even if he was able to help the region recover, the castles were vassals of the fallen House Frey or loyal to House Tully, the home of Lady Catelyn's family. They wouldn't give him their loyalty.

"The condition there is dire, your Grace." Varys's faint smile faded again. "Jon Snow's march to Harrenhall has raised the hopes of some but caused panic in others."

"It's to be expected." Griff ran his finger along the route of the Kingsroad on the map. "The key to the Riverlands's recovery is strong leadership and even stronger men. How is Edmure Tully?"

"Still recovering from his captivity but he's taken command of Riverrun. He –" Varys stopped speaking when Jaime slammed his hand on the tabletop.

"Edmure Tully was being held by Frey and Lannister men," Jaime pointed out. "Who freed him and where are my men?"

"The Frey men, I believe, are part of the problem in the southern Riverlands." Griff answered. "The Lannister men have returned to Casterly Rock on the orders of their new Lady."

"Who?" Jaime and Tyrion asked, almost in unison.

The brothers looked at each other, as if expected the other to know what was happening. Griff ignored them to continue to focus on the map. Varys glanced at Tyrion before continuing with his report.

"Correct, your Grace," Varys confirmed. "After the Frey sons and bannermen were killed at the Twins and the new Lady of Casterly Rock ordered her men to free Lord Edmure, the Frey men knew it was only a matter of time before they were removed from Riverrun."

"So, they decided to slink into the night and attack from the shadows," Griff concluded. "Thus, ensuring we'll hunt them down if they continue their attacks."

"New Lady of Casterly Rock?" Tyrion repeated. "Who is she? What right do you have to decide who rules the Rock?"

"It wasn't a hard decision," Griff said, his tone mild. "It was the process of elimination – _your_ process of elimination."

"What?" Tyrion jerked in his chair. "What do you mean?"

"A region is only as strong as the lord or lady who manages it," Griff explained. "That person is responsible for the defense, the care and the morale of its people. Bannermen and vassal houses must have _some_ respect for their leaders."

"I'm Lord of Casterly Rock," Tyrion argued. "Even you said so, when you appointed me to your council."

"No, I didn't," Griff denied. "I said you were 'Lord Tyrion Lannister, of Casterly Rock.' I didn't say you were _the_ Lord of Casterly Rock, simply that you have the title of lord and you're from Casterly Rock."

"I _am_ Lord of Casterly Rock," Tyrion protested. "Queen Daenerys assured me of it."

Griff raised his eyebrows. "How do you plan to rule the Rock while also serving as Lord Hand here in King's Landing?"

"I'll assign an agent," Tyrion snapped.

"Who?" Griff asked. "Not your father. You killed him, thus are branded a kinslayer to the people of the Westerlands. Will they respect to a man who has committed such a heinous act and against his own father?"

Tyrion jerked back and shuddered visibly. Everyone looked at the Hand then looked away. Griff was right. Kinslaying was a grave sin, a disloyalty that many couldn't tolerate. That it had been done by Tyrion, the son Tywin had despised since birth but still tolerated, made the crime even worse. Tyrion had also been convicted of murdering Joffrey, making him a kingslayer, as well. No one would loyally serve him. Tyrion flushed and looked at Jaime.

"Not your brother, either," Griff continued. "He's already the Kingslayer and now known as the man who bedded his sister, cuckolded his king and forced the kingdom to endure the tyrannical rule of his weak-willed bastards and insane lover. Not to mention he's also a kinslayer for killing your cousin. Which houses will respect such a lord?"

Everyone looked at Jaime but said nothing. Jaime met Tyrion's gaze briefly before lowering his eyes. Tyrion opened his mouth to reply but Griff spoke before he could.

"Perhaps your Uncle Kevan or cousin Lancel can act as your agent? They both had honorable reputations and didn't attempt to slay their own blood." Griff's indigo eyes narrowed. "Ahh, but they're dead, too, thanks to your kinslayer sister. So, Lord Hand, who will you trust to enforce your rule at Casterly Rock?"

"Queen Daenerys will enforce my rule," Tyrion insisted, but his voice had lost confidence.

"By sending men to torture and kill your bannermen?" Griff suggested. "Or send her dragons to burn them in their homes? Do you wish to rule with fear and violence? That's how your father managed the Rock. Do you want to be like your father, Lord Tyrion?"

Tyrion's face paled and his eyes widened until they dominated his face. He looked to Jaime then at the other members of the counsel. The Hand lowered his head, almost hanging it in shame. Jaime, who looked as miserable as his brother, suddenly sat up straight in his chair.

"Aunt Genna," Jaime's eyes opened almost as wide as his brother's had. "Aunt Genna is the new Lady of Casterly Rock, isn't she?"

"As I said, it was a process of elimination," Griff said dryly. "The new leader of House Lannister is the only member of your family you haven't eliminated, at least, not yet. Genna Lannister Frey is well-liked, shrew, intelligent and, with the death of most of House Frey and House Lannister, in a position to be of great strategic importance."

"Emmon Frey, Lady Genna's husband, is now the head of House Frey and Lord of the Twins," Brienne noted. "Why did he agree to release Edmure Tully? He wanted Lord Tully dead."

"Posh," Tanda snorted. "I know Genna Frey. Emmon does what she tells him to do. She's the female version of Kevan; strong, smart and direct."

"I hope so, Lady Tanda." Griff murmured. He turned to Brienne. "Put yourself in Lady Genna's place. She knows most of House Frey's male line has been decimated after they murdered the previous King in the North and his kin. The new King in the North is the bastard son of the same family; is marching north with two armies, dragons and wildfire; destroyed the last of House Bolton with his bare hands; and will probably burn the Twins to ashes for what House Frey did to his kin and their bannermen. Lady Genna's children are all male Freys. What would you do?"

Brienne gasped softly. The Freys had broken guest rights, another egregious sin in Westeros. They'd turned against House Stark and had, along with the Boltons, allied with House Lannister. The Boltons had been wiped out of existence for their crimes. Ramsey Bolton had been beaten to a bloody pulp by Jon Snow before being put to death by Sansa Stark. Most of the Frey men were dead. Genna's sons carried the name of traitors while the King in the North, the same man who had fought to reclaim Winterfell, marched through the Riverlands with two powerful armies and dragons at his back.

Brienne's eyes widened. "I'd do whatever I could ensure my family's survival."

"You sent an agent to offer Aunt Genna ladyship of Casterly Rock in exchange for protection and loyalty to you," Tyrion concluded.

"Loyalty to House Targaryen," Griff correct. "Lady Genna pledged herself to the same house you did. I won't allow you and my aunt to make the same mistakes you made in Slaver's Bay. Your queen destroyed the foundation of people's lives without building a framework to replace it, killed thousands without thinking of the consequences, made enemies where she should have made alliances and allowed herself to be swayed by short-sighted advisors intent on their own agendas. Westeros needs strong leaders the people can respect and follow. If not, all of the Seven Kingdoms will become a wasteland, even without the threat of the Army of the Dead."

Griff looked around the table. Tanda and Ned nodded in agreement to Griff's assessment while Tyrion and Jaime were grim-faced, their mouths pressed into flat lines. Bronn frowned at Varys, apparently more disturbed by Varys's new appearance than any concerns about Westeros. Balon and Moqorro wore nearly matching noncommittal expressions, simply observing the exchange.

Jaime finally broke the silence. "So, Edmure Tully is again the Lord of Riverrun, the Lannister troops returned to Aunt Genna at Casterly Rock and the Frey loyalists are now bandits hiding in the Whispering Woods."

"Perhaps not for long. Jon Snow has offered amnesty," Varys reported. "He's agreed to accept any men, regardless of affiliation, if they'll fight against the Army of the Dead."

"Hmmm," Griff blinked, gazing at nothing.

Brienne knew that look. Her king was thinking, seeing patterns and possibilities in his mind, sorting and resorting information into multiple possible outcomes. He knew Jon Snow, who had a reputation for building alliances with his enemies and the strong Stark sense of honor, would not hold grudges. Griff had manipulated Genna Lannister Frey with a combination of fear and vanity, appealing to her desire to protect her family and the glory of becoming Lady of one of the richest castles in Westeros. While Genna had pledged herself to House Targaryen, it was Griff who'd put her in her new position of power as Lady Paramount of the Westerlands.

"Many men will accept the amnesty, preferring to fight with purpose rather than to hide in the bushes," Griff concluded. "Lord Varys, how did Edmure Tully pledge?"

"He pledged to the White Wolf, as you expected he would," Varys confirmed. "He accepts Robb Stark's bastard brother as his king."

"Good." Griff smiled. "What about the Blackfish?"

Jaime sighed. "Brynden Tully died at Riverrun when I took the castle back for House Frey. He wouldn't surrender, even after his men laid down their arms."

Brienne frowned and exchanged sad glances with Podrick. Brynden had refused Sansa's request to take his men north to fight for Winterfell. Even so, he'd made sure Brienne and Podrick had left Riverrun safely before rejoining the fight for his home. He'd been an honorable man to his last breath. Brienne looked up to see Griff stare at Jaime, a furrow between his brows, his expression caught between pity and disbelief. It was as if Griff was unable to understand Jaime's conclusion. Griff's steady regard made Jaime's eyes widened.

"My men fought him, they saw his body," Jaime insisted. "They wouldn't lie. My men are loyal to me, even if their Lords are not."

"Did your men get a good look at the Blackfish?" Griff asked. "What proof did they present that they'd found the body of Brynden Tully?"

Griff's expression tightened and the pity morphed into impatience. Jaime stared at Griff for a long moment, the confusion darkening his wildfire green eyes shifting to realization. Beside him, Bronn shook his head.

"That's what happens when your focus is on watching the moonlight reflect off the river as the boat floats out of sight." Bronn waved his hand to illustrate. "Maybe the Blackfish's body was the one you should have checked out that night."

Everyone stared at Bronn in bewildered confusion, except Podrick. Brienne's squire flushed and shook his head at the knight. Griff studied Podrick with narrowed eyes before his gaze went to Bronn, then back to Jaime next to him. Jaime was still focused on Bryden and ignored Bronn. Chagrin came into his wildfire green eyes.

"The Blackfish isn't dead, is he?" Jaime sighed again and closed his eyes. "Edmure released him before he ordered his men to surrender Riverrun, didn't he?"

"Can you blame a man for not trusting his enemy?" Ned asked quietly. "Did you trust Lady Ser Brienne when Catelyn Stark first sent you with her to exchange for her daughters?"

"Would you, as Edmure, trust the Kingslayer, the man without honor, to keep his word and spare the men at Riverrun?" Griff added.

Brienne frowned, ready to defend Jaime. He's sworn an oath to Lady Catelyn to never take up arms against her family again. Jaime had ended the siege at Riverrun peacefully, as he'd sworn to do. She opened her mouth but Griff put up his hand.

"Brienne, did you trust Ser Jaime when you were first assigned to escort him to King's Landing? Did you believe him to have any sense of honor when you met him?" he asked.

Brienne paused, accepting the truth of Griff's words. Jaime had worn his Kingslayer reputation like a cape, throwing it over himself as protection from the icy disgust and judgement of those who didn't truly know him. Edmure couldn't be blamed for trying to protect his people from the men who'd held him prisoner and murdered his sister's family.

"Lord Varys, was the Blackfish successful in his campaign?" Griff asked.

"He was, your Grace," Varys confirmed. "Brynden's men have taken the Twins. The women and children of House Frey are their captives, but are well. They haven't been harmed, according to my little birds."

Griff nodded, his mouth curling up in a smug smile. "Did he pledge, Lord Varys?"

"Again, it is as you expected, your Grace. Brynden pledged himself to the White Wolf," Varys confirmed.

_As you expected_. Brienne stared at her king. Griff had known Brynden Tully would go north to the take the castles of the traitorous Freys. The Twins were guarded by the Frey's few remaining loyal men, with the drawbridges raised and the doors barred. Why would Brynden want the keep of the men who had murdered his niece and her family, including his king? Brynden's home was Riverrun, more than two days south of the Twins.

She'd seen how few men he had when she'd been to Riverrun. He couldn't seize the Twins with so few fighters. Where had Brynden gotten enough men, weapons and supplies to capture one of the most formidable strongholds in the Riverlands? Had Griff anticipated this outcome because he'd sent his men to _help_ Brynden take the Twins? To what purpose?

"Good," Griff didn't bother to hide his satisfaction. His gaze shifted to Brienne. "What about his closest allies, House Blackwood and House Mallister?"

A shudder passed through Brienne at the mention of her mother's house. Griff's gaze bore into her, his indigo eyes giving nothing away. Her eyes widened as she realized Griff knew more about her mother's family than she thought he did, more than she knew. Something about House Mallister made it important to Griff. A memory came back to her, of strolling through Tarth with her father.

"_Father, when did the silver eagles first appear in Tarth? Was it during my life?" she asked._

_Selwyn thought. "Yes, it was. I remember you were in your mother's arms, not yet walking, when she called me to see them." Haunting sadness pulled at the corners of his mouth. "She was so excited. She said the eagles had come to meet you because House Mallister was as much her children's blood as House Tarth."_

What was so important about House Mallister that Griff had specifically asked about a small vassal house? Was it simply because it was her mother's family, the home of the silver eagles who had hidden a secret dragon?

"They have also pledged to Jon Snow, the King in the North," Varys said.

"The leaders of the Reach, the Stormlands, the Westerlands and the Crownlands all owe their positions to you," Tyrion summarized. "While the Riverlands and the North have chosen to follow Jon Snow. Remember, the King in the North will kneel to Queen Daenerys when she and her dragons defeat the Army of the Dead."

Griff's smile didn't waver. Tyrion's words didn't bother him. Griff believed he had greater leverage over Jon than Daenerys did. Brienne shivered as she remembered their conversation in the godswood, when Griff had first explained his plans to conquer Westeros.

_Griff smiled his slow, satisfied smile. "I also have the North."_

_Brienne jerked back in shock at his statement. "No, you don't. Jon Snow is the King in the North. Daenerys pressured him to bend the knee to her but he refused. He said he would only accept her as his queen if she defeated the Night King."_

_Griff nodded. "She hasn't defeated the Night King, has she? Until she does, or if she only does it with help, then Jon Snow's loyalty remains with you."_

"_Me?" Brienne's eyes opened wide. "Jon Snow is a king. He doesn't owe me loyalty."_

"_But he gave it, just the same," Griff insisted. "If my sources are correct, his exact words to your father were 'My family is deeply indebted to your daughter. Rest assured, should she ever require it, __House Stark stands at her back'__. Whether he intended it or not, the King in the North has publicly, and often, pledged his loyalty and his house to __you__. You are mine, thus, his pledge is also mine. You, Brienne, have given me the North."_

Griff's advantages; his understanding of history, knowledge of human nature, and sense of duty and discipline had neutralized Daenerys's strengths: her armies, her advisors and her dragons. Griff was able to do so because _she_, Brienne, had given him many of those advantages. She had told him about her guidance from the Gods, had entrusted him with the dragons and had earned the loyalty of House Stark.

That wasn't all. Griff was a smart tactician who approached situations from multiple angles. He wouldn't rely on just Jon's vow of loyalty to Brienne. No, Griff had made strategic decisions that benefited Jon directly. By freeing Edmure to take back Riverrun and assisting Brynden in seizing the Twins, he'd raised House Tully while simultaneously stripping the Lannisters and the Freys of all power in the Riverlands.

Daenerys planned a future as Queen of Westeros with Jon at her side. She expected her feminine wiles and her dragons would be enough to entice Jon. Griff didn't have a woman's power but he had a far better understanding of men, their motivations and their weaknesses. Jon wouldn't bend the knee to Daenerys. Her armies and dragons weren't enough to defeat the Army of the Dead. It would take all of Westeros fighting together to defeat the threat of the Night King.

Griff understood Jon considered honor and loyalty as the greatest traits. He also knew Jon loved his half-Tully siblings above all things. Part of Jon's motivation for fighting for Winterfell was knowing Sansa would never be safe until Ramsey Bolton was dead. Restoring the Tullys, and even increasing their power with control of the Twins, protected House Stark, thus protected the people Jon loved most.

One day, Griff would go against Daenerys for the rulership of the Seven Kingdoms. Jon Snow was King in the North and held the loyalty of the Riverlands and, possibly, the Vale. When it came time to choose, Griff was trying to ensure Jon would choose him. It was likely Jon would favor the king whose knight had protected his siblings, who'd restored their uncle and great-uncle positions and honor, and who controlled the future of the Lannisters and the Freys. Griff was Brienne's king and she was the knight Jon has already sworn to protect. Griff was taking steps to make Jon's decision even easier.

Now Brienne understood her king's plan. The future of Westeros wouldn't be determined by a war of Targaryen against Targaryen. Griff was a strategic thinker, having spent his whole life preparing to serve the Seven Kingdoms. Daenerys only knew how to conquer and rule, not how to restore and serve. No, the future of Westeros would not be a dance of the dragons.

It would be a battle for the soul of the White Wolf.

**Author's Notes:** I know this is a 'talky' chapter but it's full of important clues. Much of what you learned here will echo though the coming chapters. Do you understand Griff's game plan to take the Seven Kingdoms?

My beta has been having personal issues so this chapter has not been proof-read. Please let me know if I need to make corrections. Is anyone interested in being a beta reader for me?

**Plea from Paly:** I have no artistic or photoshop talent. Can someone assist me in creating Griff's personal sigil? It's the sigil of House Martell with the three-headed dragon symbol shrunk down to fit inside the sun. I also need the sun rotated so the spear is held in the dragon's claw. Please let me know in the comments if you can assist me. I will, of course, credit you for your wonderful assistance.


	47. Objective Keeper

The Keeper

Chapter 47 – Objective Keeper

A shiver went down Brienne's spine as she studied Griff's calm satisfaction. His Martell blood showed in the cool smile that had also graced his Uncle Oberyn's face. Griff was building up his power base, even while he carefully bolstered support in the Riverlands, and through it, in the North. As Tyrion had stated, the leaders of the Reach, the Stormlands, the Westerlands, the Crownlands and now the Riverlands, all owed their positions to the Prince of Dorne. Once the North and the Riverlands swore fealty to Griff through Jon Snow, only the Vale and the Iron Islands remained. Did Griff have a plan to gain their loyalty, too?

"Queen Daenerys won't allow you to take what's hers," Tyrion warned. "She'll answer you with all the power at her command, if you try to take the Seven Kingdoms from her."

Griff looked at the Hand but his expression didn't alter. Brienne understood. There was no point in arguing about events that hadn't, and might never, occur. Tyrion was smart and competent but he was forced to approach ruling the Seven Kingdoms while immersed in the conflict. Griff had worked from the shadows for the past eight months, knowing his own role, strengths and assets. It had allowed him to observe how others reacted and adjust accordingly. He had, as he'd done for his entire life, been allowed to plan in peace and secrecy.

While Griff had strategized, learned and prepared, everyone else had been forced to react to the wars surrounding them. Daenerys was fighting for what she thought was her birthright. Jon was trying to prepare armies for a war greater than all of them. Griff, instead of direct confrontation, had planted seeds for a quiet rebellion, one he'd win with cunning and compassion, instead of his family's history of fire and blood.

"I've done nothing against my aunt, Lord Tyrion," Griff denied, keeping his tone mild. "In fact, I've worked hard to stabilize the Seven Kingdoms. I've ensured Dorne will not march against King's Landing; strengthen the Reach by supplying a strong leader to ensure order; confirmed the Stormlands and Crownlands are in the care of stable lords; installed a well-respected lady to hold the Westerlands and am working to restore the Riverlands. Now that members of House Tully hold both the Twins and Riverrun, they'll work together and with House Stark, to care for their people and make the lands prosper again. Aren't those your goals, too, Lord Hand?"

Tyrion's face flushed and his mouth tightened. Brienne didn't know exactly what Tyrion's goals were, but they didn't appear to include a rival with a greater claim to kingship, his own dragons and a solid plan to lift the Seven Kingdoms out of despair and starvation. The Hand looked from Griff to Varys seated beside Bronn at the end of the table.

"How long?" Tyrion demanded

Varys raised his eyebrows in a questioning expression.

"How long have you been secretly supporting Aegon Martell Targaryen?" Tyrion ground out, his jaw rigid. "I thought you were my friend, my ally, but you secretly supported King Aegon for the throne."

"Being your friend, your ally, doesn't preclude me from supporting the rightful king." Varys pressed his hands together under his sleeves. "We all know your nephews and, most certainly, your sister were terrible rulers. The people, Westeros itself, was dying under the command of the Lannisters. Even now, we're fighting to save the kingdom from your family's mismanagement, cruelty and stupidity. The Seven Kingdoms will perish without a strong, but just, ruler. King Aegon is that ruler."

Tyrion jerked back at that. "Queen Daenerys is just, as well. She freed the slaves in the Bay of Dragons."

"Freed them from what?" Varys asked quietly. "They have very little food, no power, no gold and no safety. Warlords attack from all sides, trapping the people inside the walls. The young prey on the old, the strong prey on the weak and children die in the fighting. The people may no longer wear slave collars but have their situations improved?"

Tyrion was silent, his face draining of color. The people of the Bay of Dragons were fighting for their survival because Tyrion had convinced Daenerys to leave Essos for Westeros. He had done it because he'd wanted to rain fire and blood on his enemies. Had Daenerys, the Unsullied and her dragons remained in Meereen, perhaps she could have developed a plan to quell the fighting and repel the invaders.

"You convinced her to come to Westeros," Varys pointed out gently. "She could barely manage the problems of three slave cities besieged by warlords. How does she expect to rule an entire continent at war with itself?"

Varys waited but Tyrion didn't respond to his question. Tyrion's eyes widened and he was at a loss for words. Tanda, seated beside him and Ned, seated across from him, both leaned back in the chairs, their complete attention on the Hand to Queen Daenerys. Still, Tyrion seemed unable to reply. Griff allowed the silence to stretch out for a moment then spoke.

"Lord Varys, it's good my aunt came to Westeros," he said, his voice equally mild. "We didn't know about the great threat of the Army of the Dead. She's where she needs to be to lead her armies."

"I agree, your Grace." Varys nodded. "The Unsullied, the Dothraki and the dragons are needed in the Great War. The Dragon Queen knows how to fight battles but she doesn't know how to create peace. She wouldn't have thought to reinforce the Reach and the Westerlands, nor would she have taken the steps necessary to start reviving the Riverlands. War is what we face now, but what about after this war? Daenerys knows only fire and blood, not diplomacy and compromise."

"So, you choose to turn against Queen Daenerys, against me, to favor King Aegon?" Tyrion accused.

"I never turned against you or Daenerys," Varys denied. "I convinced Cersei to discharge Ser Barristan so Daenerys would have a strong, honorable commander at her side. I arranged for Ser Barristan's safe journey to Slaver's Bay. I even arranged for _your_ safe passage so _you_ would be at her side. I did everything I could to make Daenerys strong in Essos. You're the one who turned against our plans and brought her to Westeros."

"I didn't know about your plans!" Tyrion snapped.

Tyrion's faced flushed. He was so angry, or perhaps wounded, that he wasn't able to understand the larger scheme. Jaime, however, understood. He looked from his brother to Griff then to Varys, frowning as he swiftly put the pieces together.

"Our plans," Jaime repeated. "It was your plan, with Aegon, to _strengthen_ Daenerys in Essos? You plotted with him to send her advisors and military commanders? Even knowing Daenerys was your king's rival for the Iron Throne?"

"I thought they would help her," Griff explained. "As Lord Varys said, my aunt knows how to fight battles but she doesn't know how to create peace."

Brienne looked at Tyrion and remembered the exchange he had with Griff the first day King Aegon returned to King's Landing.

"_I thought you were Rheagar when I saw you fighting stone men on that hill in Valyria." Tyrion studied Griff with equal intensity. "But then I was only six years old the last time I saw your father." _

_Griff's expression hardened. "I was only six __months__ old the last time I saw my father. Then your family proceeded to kill him, my grandfather, my mother, my sister, my cousin and my uncles."_

_Tyrion winced. "And yet you still saved my life in Valyria. Why?"_

"_Daenerys is one of the few remaining family members I still have left. I knew you were being taken to help her rule Meereen. I'd heard you were smart and capable." Griff paused. "But those were just more Lannister lies. You failed miserably." _

"_He didn't fail," Brienne corrected. "He deliberately gave Daenerys bad advice so she'd abandon Essos. He wanted her to bring fire and blood to King's Landing."_

"Daenerys was supposed to stay in Essos, wasn't she?" Brienne surmised. "You knew she had dragons. You probably sent men to confirm her dragons were growing stronger by the day and would soon fight at her side. Logically, her next step was to build an army. She would need help managing her men."

She looked from Griff to Varys then back to Griff. Griff glanced at Varys then nodded.

Brienne also nodded. "That's when you had Lord Varys convince Cersei to remove the greatest living Kingsguard from his service. You knew she'd replace Ser Barristan with a fool she could control. That made Joffrey even more arrogant and vulnerable, further weakening his rule. Then you had Lord Varys send Ser Barristan, the most honorable warrior in Westeros, to Meereen to support Daenerys."

Griff nodded. "My miscalculation was Tyrion. I thought he'd help her manage the freed cities, and take her armies to Volantis to continue to disrupt slavery. That was her goal. That's why she stayed in Meereen instead of coming to Westeros sooner. In fact, before I had the dragons to care for, I intended to meet her in Volantis to discuss my plans to break the slave trade."

"Break the slave trade?" Varys stared at his king. "How could you meet Daenerys in Volantis if you were hiding the young dragons in Valyria?"

"I couldn't," Griff agreed. "I planned the campaign before I met Brienne. I was still in Braavos, preparing to open a _Golden Company_ office in Tyrosh. My aunt was already having trouble holding the slave cities. The Tyrosh office was only open a few days when Brienne returned as the Gods' warrior and the keeper of their dragons. I changed my plans to protect her and these five."

He smiled at the dragons gather around the table. The five looked back at him attentively, as if following the conversation. Brienne drew in her breath. She remembered that day, bringing the baby dragons, only three days old at the time, to the offices of the _Golden Company_.

"_I need help. I need to leave Tyrosh immediately. I'm not safe here."_

"_By the count of horses you brought back, you killed at least a score of slavers," Tristan said. "I think they're the ones not safe."_

_Brienne stared at him. "Will you help me or not?"_

_Griff looked at the pack in her arms. Brienne hugged it tighter and shifted closer to the door. It would be awkward to unsheathe _Oathkeeper_ while holding her burden. But she'd fight if they tried to take her pack by force._

_Griff didn't reach for her. Instead he leaned back against the table. "Where do you want to go?"_

"_Anywhere."_

_He exchanged looks with Tristan. "When do you want to leave?"_

"_Now."_

_Again, the men exchanged looks. Brienne waited, tense and ready to run, if needed. Finally, Griff nodded._

"_Tristan and I are preparing a team to Volantis. We plan to leave in four days. You can come with us," he offered._

"Then I decided to return to Westeros to find Lady Catelyn's daughters. You went to Valyria to protect the dragons. I made you promise not to meet Daenerys," Brienne recalled, fighting to keep the guilt from her voice. "You would have helped the slaves in the Bay of Dragons, if not for me."

Was it her fault? People were suffering, dying, in Essos while she tried to direct everyone's focus to the upcoming battle against the Night King. The vague threat of a man who brought the winter storms meant nothing to children, starving and abused, barely surviving in the sandstone mountains of Meereen.

"Don't blame yourself, Brienne," Griff insisted. "You are the Gods' warrior, the instrument of their will. They brought you and the dragons to Westeros. If we fail to win the war against the Army of the Dead, then we'll have no chance to help the people in Essos."

"It's because of you that we defeated the Army of the Dead when they attacked the capital," Jaime pointed out. "Without you here, King's Landing might have fallen, creating a million new soldiers for the Night King's army. How can you help the people of Essos if we don't stop the enemy that has already drawn first blood here, in Westeros?"

"The past has ended," Ned added his own encouragement. "It does us no good to dwell on the decisions we've made before. The objective of this council is to strategize on how best to guide Westeros forward. Once we've saved ourselves, then we can look to helping others."

Tanda nodded in agreement of Ned's assessment. Even Balon, more often an observer than a participant, nodded. Moqorro, seated beside him, remained quiet and objective. Tyrion looked at Ned, frowned again, then turned to stare at Varys.

"How long?" the Hand repeated.

Varys raised his chin. "Always."

Tyrion's eyes widened. Varys straightened his shoulders and held Tyrion's gaze. Bronn looked from Varys seated on his right to Tyrion seated further up the table, at Griff's right. The knight then looked back at Varys and frowned.

"What do you mean? 'How long, always' what?" Bronn demanded. "Are you reciting poetry to each other? I'll move if you two need to sit together and hold hands."

Everyone, except Balon, Moqorro and the dragons, stared at Bronn. Balon and Moqorro retained their polite expressions while the dragons watched the knight with interest. He didn't annoy them the way he irritated the council members. Bronn merely shrugged his shoulders, unfazed by their censure. Tyrion ignored Bronn to focus on Varys.

"I meant, how long have you supported Aegon Martell Targaryen?" Tyrion demanded.

"I answered you." Varys's cool composure remained. "Always. I have _always_ supported King Aegon. I have since the day his mother thrust him into my arms and ordered me to save him from your father's men."

"What?" Jaime gasped. "You were the one who saved Aegon? You smuggled him out of the Red Keep?"

Varys gave Jaime a steady look. "Someone had to save Rhaegar's children."

The unspoken sentiment that Jaime should have been the one to honor Rhaegar's last order was heavy in the air. Jaime opened and closed his mouth several times but no words emerged. Tyrion looked at his brother, then at Aegon then back to Varys, as unable to speak as his brother.

"Once Aerys gave the command to open the gates, I knew it was only a matter of time before Rhaegar's family died," Varys explained. "I went to Princess Elia and begged her to go with me. She didn't trust me. She knew Aerys had brought me over from Essos and didn't believe I would protect her children over my king. By the time I convinced her, Tywin's men were already inside the Red Keep. She thrust King Aegon into my arms and sent me to Princess Rhaenys's room."

Varys sighed and looked at Griff. "Your mother refused to come with us. She was weakened by your birth and she'd barely left her sick bed. She didn't want to slow down your escape so she stayed behind to distract the men. She was weak and fragile but she fought to her last breath to protect you."

Griff's face flushed and he swallowed visibly. He nodded silently. Tyrion hung his head while Jaime covered his face with his hand. Everyone else, including the dragons, were quiet and still as they listened to the Spider tell his tale.

"I went to your sister's room but the princess wasn't there. I looked for her but you had started to cry. Then I heard your mother's screams and knew I'd run out of time. So, I took you and fled." Varys sighed heavily. "It didn't occur to me to look for Princess Rhaenys in your father's room."

"You couldn't have known, Lord Varys," Griff said quietly. "She thought her father would save her. She didn't know Rhaegar had left his wife and children to dishonor House Stark. How is a three-year-old to understand her weak, selfish father had deserted her?"

Griff looked at Catren and Ardayn seated on the table in front of him. He held out his arms to them. Catren flew into his lap while Ardayn, more independent by nature, moved down to the edge of the table, close enough for Griff to put his arm around it. Gallan looked at Brienne, sensing Griff's pain but unsure what to do about it. Brienne and Podrick both reached for the blue dragon, pulling it closer to them.

"I'm not that kind of man." Griff looked down at Catren and Ardayn but everyone understood he was talking to all of them. "I won't betray my family or Westeros. I'll do whatever is needed, including compromise and concession, to restore the Seven Kingdoms and bring Westeros back to glory. I'll do what Rheagar didn't have the honor or decency to do."

The conviction in his voice throbbed throughout the room and the dragons responded. They all cried out. Catren puffed up in his lap while Ardayn rose into the air. The silver-grey dragon draped itself across Griff's shoulders and squawked. Gallan pulled away from Brienne and Podrick to fly to its father. Griff rested one hand on Ardayn and held out the other to Gallan as it landed before him. Even sleepy Allwyn and injured Serdun sat up in Podrick and Brienne's laps, crying out their encouragement to Griff.

For a moment, the dragons were the only ones moving. Tanda and Ned pressed against their chairs, as if trying to give the dragons more space. Tyrion and Jaime were still caught up in their guilt and misery. Bronn, Balon and Moqorro all watched, looking from the Griff to the dragons and back to the king. Then Ned cleared his throat and looked down the table at Varys. The Lord of Starfall's violet eyes were dark with compassion and sadness.

"Princess Elia was a daughter of Dorne," Ned stated. "Our people's hearts are strong even when their bodies are not. She, like all Dornish, gave her life for honor. Her sacrifice ensured Prince Aegon would survive to lead his people out of the Long Night."

Brienne looked at Ned. What he said was true but it wasn't the whole truth. Griff was more than the Prince of Dorne, even more than the prince that was promised. He was the _Sword of the Morning_, the prince who would bring the _Dawn_. Princesses Elia and Rhaenys had to die for Griff to become who he needed to be. Brienne inhaled deeply as she recalled explaining it to Griff in the godswood.

_Griff drew in his breath. "Because we need __Dawn__ to fight the Army of the Dead."_

"_Yes," Brienne agreed. "Westeros needs the greatest sword in the world, wielded by the fastest swordsman in the world. You are the __Sword of the Morning__, the sword that will protect the realms of men. You wouldn't have become who you were destined to be without men like Ser Manfrey, Ser Jaime and Lord Tywin Lannister."_

_Griff jerked back. "Tywin Lannister has done __nothing__ for me."_

"_Yes, he has," Brienne corrected harshly. "His methods were brutal but they were effective. If he hadn't sent Gregor Clegane to murder your family, you wouldn't have been smuggled out of King's Landing. You would have been raised in the capital or Dragonstone or Sunspear, known as the son of Rhaegar Targaryen and Elia Martell. You wouldn't need to prove who you were. Would you even have thought to try to claim __Dawn __if you didn't need to prove you were the son of the sun?"_

"_No." Griff stared at her, his face draining of color. "I would have interpreted the prophecy as others did. I'd have assumed it meant 'dawn' as daybreak."_

_Brienne nodded. "Thus, the world wouldn't have the weapon or the warrior it needs to defend it against the Army of the Dead. Tywin orders were brutal and cruel but they were necessary. The Gods did what had to be done to create a weapon powerful enough to fight for the living."_

"Lord Varys, what did you do after you smuggled King Aegon out of the Red Keep?" Tanda asked. "How were you able to keep him secret for all these years?"

"I sent him to Essos, where he lived with a friend of mine," Varys explained. "Then I learned one of Rhaegar's closest friends had joined the _Golden Company_, after being stripped of his title and lands by Robert Baratheon. We approached him to raise and prepare King Aegon. I thought it best the king be raised by a man who understood honor and duty."

"Who was this man?" Ned asked.

"Lord Jon Connington," Varys replied.

He was about to continue when Bronn snorted. The Spider – and everyone else – turned to stare at the knight. Bronn looked at Varys with a mixture of disgust and pity.

"If you think Ron Connington is a man who understands honor and duty, then you're in serious trouble," Bronn informed him.

"_Jon_ Connington," Griff emphasized, "not Ron."

Brienne gasped softly, remembering Ronnet Connington's insulting refusal to become betrothed to a freak like her. She'd only been a girl of twelve when he'd given her the rose and walked out on her. The humiliation of his refusal had stayed with her for years, only soothed when she'd met the kind and courtly Renly Baratheon. The dragons, sensitive to her aching pain, squawked and turned to her. Serdun, in her lap, and Allwyn, in Podrick's, both leaned against her, offering their magical warmth and acceptance.

"Brienne, why did you gasp?" Griff demanded. "Why are the dragons upset? Do you know Ron Connington?"

Despite her best attempt to control it, Brienne felt the heat flush into her face. She looked down at Serdun instead of up at her king. Even after all these years, after her hard-won increased self-confidence, it still hurt to remember the rejection.

"My father tried to betroth me to Ronnet Connington," she admitted softly. "Father thought Jon Connington was one of the most honorable men he knew. He assumed any man raised by House Connington would be equally kind and honorable." She drew in a deep breath. "Ronnet took one look at me and refused the betrothal."

She kept her head down, not wanting to see the pity and understanding on everyone's faces. The dragons screeched again. Ardayn left Griff's shoulders to fly to her, landing on the table in front of her. She pressed her forehead into the silver-grey dragon's neck as she heard Griff's harshly indrawn breath.

"How dare he," Griff snarled.

She couldn't see his face but she heard the fury in Griff's voice. Catren and Gallan, still with him, cried out, absorbing their father's throbbing anger. But even knowing her king supported her didn't erase the pain of the memory.

"It was necessary, your Grace." She spoke to Griff but kept her forehead against Ardayn's neck. "We both know the Gods have been preparing us to fight the Great War. If I'd married Ronnet, I wouldn't have become their warrior and the keeper of their dragons."

Ardayn, normally reserved, rubbed its head against her hair. The dragon had clearly picked up its mother's pain and humiliation. Serdun, the other half of her most ardent guards, pressed its head against her heart, warming her through with its magical heat. She smiled, grateful the pain was in her past and the dragons were her future.

"Nor would you have become my sworn sword," Griff noted, his voice shaky. "I wouldn't have you at my side."

Brienne stilled at the sudden vulnerability in his voice. Heat flushed into her face and she dared not look up. Not be at Griff's side? What would her life be without him? King Aegon was the future of Westeros, if not the whole world. A king who would serve his people, not rule them. She remembered her thoughts the night she'd given herself to her king.

_She knew hers was not a future of handsome lords or pretty flattery. Her future was to serve under a great leader, one who gave the best of himself to bring out the best in those he protected._

Life as Ron Connington's wife, barely tolerated and miserable, was unthinkable. At the time, his refusal had left her in tears. Now she understood how fortunate she'd been to have avoided such an unhappy marriage.

"It is as intended, your Grace." She was proud of how steady her voice sounded. Even so, she continued to nuzzle Ardayn rather than look up. "I am exactly where I should be."

"Yes, you are. Even so, Ronnet Connington acted dishonorably." Griff's voice was even and controlled again. "Brienne, I promise you, I'll drag this Ronnet to your feet and make him repeat apologies until his throat bleeds."

"That's going to be hard," Bronn said, his tone casual despite the tension. "Since Ronnet has a broken jaw and is missing some teeth."

"What?" Brienne finally looked up from Ardayn's neck. "You know Ronnet Connington?"

"Sure," Bronn confirmed. "He was with us when we broke the siege at Riverrun. He saw you when you came to try to secure the Blackfish and his men to go to Winterfell. Connington said something about you fighting with a bear and Ser Goldenhand here didn't like it." He nodded to Jaime. "So, the Lord Commander cracked him across the face with his golden hand."

Brienne raised her head to stare at Jaime. "You broke Ronnet's jaw because he spoke about me? What did he say?"

Jaime flushed and refused to meet her gaze. "It doesn't matter what he said. He didn't say it with the respect befitting a lady. He won't make that mistake again."

Brienne stared at him in shocked amazement. She didn't believe Ronnet's words merely lacked respect. As a former Kingguard and bannerman, she knew how men talked and the subjects they enjoyed talking about. It was just Ronnet's bad luck that he'd said it near one of the few men in Westeros wouldn't tolerate disrespect towards her.

"Thank you," she said quietly.

Jaime looked down at his golden hand, now mangled and partly misshapen after melting against Cersei's burning body. The dragons also looked at Jaime, sensing Brienne's warm gratitude towards the Lord Commander. The council members, Tyrion especially, looked at Jaime with approval. Bronn, seated next to Jaime, rolled his eyes.

"I can still change seats if I need to," Bronn reminded, but was careful not to look at anyone in particular.

On cue, Jaime, Tyrion and Griff glared at him. This time, even Ned and Tanda joined in their disapproval. Balon and Moqorro still had calm, neutral expressions on their face but their eyes appeared to darken the longer they looked at the knight. Bronn shrugged, not concerned with their annoyance.

"Your Grace, I'm confused about one point," Ned questioned. "No one knew you'd survived the sacking of King's Landing. The Mountain presented a dead baby, claiming it was you. Why did he do so if you had escaped?"

"Tywin Lannister wasn't a man who tolerated failure, Lord Ned," Griff explained. "He would have executed Gregor Clegane if it became known I'd survived. So, Gregor took another baby, pounded its head unmercifully and presented it to Tywin. The poor babe was unrecognizable after Gregor finished with it." He shook his head. "Sandor was right. His brother didn't suffer enough for all the crimes he committed."

"His actions, though not his intention, protected you, your Grace," Varys noted. "Tywin and Robert didn't know you were alive so they didn't try to hunt you. Your aunt and uncle spent their lives running from the sellswords sent to kill them. Sometimes, I was barely able to reach them before Robert's assassins did."

Griff nodded soberly. The dragons cried out in concern. Catren, in his lap and Gallan, under his hand, both looked up at Griff. Ardayn began to walk the length of the table, causing Ned and Tanda to stiffen. Catren leaned heavily against Griff while Gallan laid its head on his arm. Griff's lips curled into a smile as he held out his free hand to Ardayn, clearly warmed by their support. Jaime cleared his throat and looked at Griff.

"I'm sorry about Jon Connington," Jaime offered. "I met him several times and thought he was a good, honorable man."

Griff looked up and met Jaime's gaze coolly. "He still is."

"What?" Jaime jerked in his seat. "But I heard he was driven out of the _Golden Company_ for theft and drank himself to death."

"And thus, no one looked for him, either," Varys pointed out. "Lord Jon allowed his honor to be besmirched in order to protect the rightful King of the Seven Kingdoms."

"Honor that has been restored," Griff announced. "Jon Connington is alive and well. He's also the new Lord of Storm's End and Lord Paramount of the Stormlands."

Tyrion's eyes widened. "You've given him House Baratheon's stronghold?"

Griff met his gaze. "Robert Baratheon stripped Lord Jon of his lands and titles for his loyalty to House Targaryen. My aunt, _your queen_, gave Storm's End to the _Golden Company_. Who will protest his appointment? There are no Baratheons left to manage the keep." Griff's cool gaze became ice-cold. "After all, your niece and nephews weren't Baratheons, were they?"

Tyrion broke eye contact with Griff and looked away. Griff's gaze moved from Tyrion to Jaime, the true father of Joffrey, Myrcella and Tommen Baratheon. He held Jaime's gaze, as if daring him to speak out against Lord Jon's appointment. Jaime's face flushed and he silently lowered his head.

"There is one Baratheon, your Grace," Podrick explained. "He's Robert's bastard, a blacksmith who pledged himself to House Stark."

"I'm aware of this Gendry, Podrick," Griff assured him. "He shows promise. By all accounts, he's strong, brave and honorable. We'll see what becomes of him after the Great War."

Brienne sighed. "Much of what needs to be done is 'after the Great War'. We haven't created a plan to fight the Army of the Dead nor do we have any idea what this Night King wants."

"His motives are clear," Griff said, his voice flat and matter-of-fact. "He wants to enslave all of Westeros."

Brienne gasped. Everyone, including the dragons, stared at him. They were all still at hearing Griff's blunt declaration. The council members looked at each other, stunned. This time, Tyrion was the first to break free from his shock.

"Enslave?" Tyrion gasped. "The Night King isn't a slave master."

"What else is he?" Griff challenged. "He takes people's choices, power and even their lives away from them. He reduces them to a single objective – to serve him and bring more people under his control. He gives limited power to a small group of followers, his White Walkers, to command Wights, slaves of their own. They all exist to serve the Night King's objective."

Brienne felt an icy wave of cold chill her from head to foot, as if she'd fallen into an icy-cold bath. Instinctively, she tightened her arms around Serdun, drawing comfort from its magical heat.

"And what is the Night King's objective?" she asked quietly.

"The same as that of all tyrants." Griff looked at her, his indigo eyes darkening almost to black. "He wants dominion over every creature in Westeros, if not the entire world. He wants to control their decisions, their actions and even their thoughts. In short, he wants to be a God."

_A God_. The world was full of Gods and the identity that accompanied them. Most of Westeros favored the Faith of the Seven but many Northmen still worshiped the old Gods. The Iron Islands held with the Drowned God while many in Essos worshipped the God of Fire. Those were only the major religions. Each region had their own beliefs, ideas of who to worship and how. Griff had explained it when she'd first taken the baby dragons to the _Golden Company's_ office.

"_These are poor people, slaves and beggars all their lives. They want to believe in something, to find a reason for their suffering. They accept the horrors of gods like R'hllor, to give meaning to their misery."_

Each person believed their actions were true and correct because they had faith in their God. That belief gave structure to their lives and purpose to their suffering. She, herself, had prayed to the Seven to give her life meaning and to serve a just king. Her prayers had been answered, not just by the Faith of the Seven, but by _all_ the faiths. They had all joined together to bring dragons back into the world.

"_I was born into the faith of the Seven. I am who I am today because of it," Brienne explained quietly. "But it was the Lord of Light who led me to the dragons and guided me safely back to the Narrow Sea."_

"_Then it was the Drowned God who gave us food and protection until the dragons had grown enough for me to leave them." Brienne looked around and saw the crowd watching and listening with rapt attention. She raised her voice. "Now it is the Old Gods who provide the meat to feed your children. This food the dragons provide is a gift from all the Gods. They have all provided for the dragons and now the dragons provide for you. No one, regardless of faith, shall be denied a share of this bounty."_

The Night King wanted to take that away, to unite the people in a single belief, that _he_ was their God. That was why the Gods had joined together and made her their instrument. They knew faith alone wasn't enough to fight the threat coming for them. The Night King didn't respond to logic or reason, wouldn't show mercy and couldn't be stopped by conventional means. The Gods had strengthened magic to fight a threat unlike any other. The Night King wouldn't just destroy humanity, it would destroy faith itself.

Without faith, without hope, the world would be shrouded in darkness.

Then the Long Night would begin.


	48. Commission Keeper

The Keeper

Chapter 48 – Commission Keeper

A short time later, Brienne looked up from the small boat she was riding to the three _Golden Company_ ships docked in the Blackwater Bay, at the mouth of the Blackwater Rush. The _Sea Keeper_, which only held a hundred men and supplies, could easily have docked in the harbor but the other two ships were, as Tyrion described, large warships. They were enormous, with stripped hulls, massive tacked-down sails and hundreds of oars. The dragons flying above them, except Serdun, cried out in excitement. Serdun, held firmly in Griff's arms, also squawked and tried to rise.

Tanda, seated beside Brienne, looked up at the dragons and shrank down. "Why are they so upset?"

"They're not upset, they're excited," Griff began, then stopped when Serdun tried to struggle out of his lap. He murmured to the green and orange dragon, trying to soothe it.

"The dragons served with these men, Lady Tanda," Podrick explained. "They're happy to see them again."

He was sharing the small boat with Griff, Brienne, Ned, Tanda and men rowing them to meet the ships. Tyrion, Jaime, Bronn, Balon and Moqorro followed closely in another boat. Brienne hadn't been surprised to see Ned, Tanda, Balon and Tyrion accompany Griff to meet the men. They were the council tasked with guiding Westeros to a stable future. What surprised her was Jaime, Bronn and Moqorro joining them.

Their boat pulled up beside the _Sea Keeper_ first. A rope ladder was thrown down and a familiar face appeared at the top. Serjeant Jon Lothston, his bright red hair and beard shining almost as bright as a beacon, looked down at them. Griff cupped his hand to his forehead, trying to block out the bright midday sun.

"Serjeant –" Griff began but broke off when Serdun leapt out of his lap.

"Serdun!" Brienne cried as the injured dragon extended its wings and flew out of Griff's reach.

Podrick tried to grab the green dragon but it eluded him. Serdun's strong leap had pushed it high into the air but its wing was still weak. The green dragon cried out in pain. It lost altitude and tumbled into the _Golden Company_ serjeant. The other dragons swooped to the _Sea Keeper_ upon hearing Serdun cry.

"Oooff!" Serjeant cried as he deftly caught the dragon against his powerful chest. He looked down at Griff. "Didn't they learn wing control months ago?"

"Don't let it go. It's injured and shouldn't fly," Brienne called up.

Brienne and Podrick hurried after Griff as he quickly scaled the rope ladder. Serjeant handed Serdun over to Griff. The green dragon squawked at the indignity of being held while the other dragons flew around the _Golden Company_ ships. Reassured that Serdun was well, they weaved around the ships, screeching with undisguised joy. The men, having lived with the dragons for many months, cheered and whistled as if they shared the dragons' excitement. Brienne saw they all had smiles on their faces as they looked up at the excited dragons.

"Is Serdun alright?" she asked, her voice high and anxious, as she crossed the deck.

Serdun squawked again and strained for the freedom the other dragons enjoyed. It didn't appear to have suffered any lasting injury from its short flight. Griff held Serdun firmly but was careful not to cause further harm to its weak wing.

"It's fine but refuses to take care of itself, just like it's mother." Griff nodded to a nearby barrel. "Brienne, sit down. Your feet are still healing."

She'd forgotten her feet in the rush of concern for Serdun. They did ache. She sat down as Griff crossed the deck with Serdun and exchanged greetings with the men. Many smiled and nodded to her and she returned their greetings. She remembered how shocked she'd been when they'd all willing trained with her and even gave her advice and instruction on Braavosi fighting stances. The men had easily accepted her, even before she brought the dragons for their protection.

"Formation!" Serjeant hollered.

The officers, fighters and squires immediately moved to their positions and stood tall, like the disciplined warriors they were. Serdun also settled, as if realizing it was also a member of the _Golden Company_ and needed to be as professional as the other men. Around them, the cheering abruptly ended as the men on the other ships also stood to attention. Even so, the atmosphere is was relaxed and light, with the dragons still flying loops above them.

Podrick stood at her side, watched the dragons in flight then looked at the men on the other ships with a slight frown. It must have been odd for him to see the hardened warriors looking so delighted. Podrick had only spent a fortnight with the _Golden Company_ while Brienne had shared a ship with them for three months. The dragons had even deeper relationships. The five had trained with these fighters for seven months. These men had endured the horrors of Valyria to keep the dragons safe. The five were clearly thrilled to be reunited with the companions they'd lived with their whole lives.

Griff turned away from his men when a commotion distracted him. Brienne followed his gaze to the rope ladder. Two men were pulling the ladder up to the deck. Brienne frowned. Why were they bringing up the ladder when the other council members still had to board? She was about to speak when Tanda's head appeared over the side. Then she understood. Tanda had been unable to climb the ladder.

Once they brought Tanda to the deck, the men lowered the ladder again. Tanda, looked around, flushed and irritated. Griff and Serjeant quickly turned their backs, pretending not to have seen Lady Stokeworth hauled onto the deck like she was the day's fresh catch. Tanda brushed out her skirt and stalked over to Brienne.

"What is the name of your dressmaker?" Tanda demanded, shaking out her skirt again. "Your gowns are far more practical than mine. I couldn't go up two steps in this frippery."

Podrick gasped, wide-eyed, then disguised his inappropriate response with a strained cough. Brienne kept her expression polite and tried not to picture the plump, elderly Lady of Stokeworth in a modified gown, tight breeches and a sword belt. Tanda nodded approvingly at Brienne's knee length black and red gown with its high side slits, pleated bodice and straight, unadorned sleeves.

"I'll send her to your rooms after she visits me tomorrow, my Lady," Brienne promised. "I'm sure she'll be pleased with the commission."

She didn't dare look at Podrick, who kept his gaze on the rope ladder, pretending not to hear their conversation. Brienne shifted to make room for Tanda beside her on the barrel. Podrick quickly offered his hand to assist her as Ned pulled himself onto the deck. The Lord of Starfall went to join his prince and Serjeant. A moment later, Jaime, Balon, Bronn, Tyrion and Moqorro gathered on the deck.

Griff strode to the center of the deck, Serdun still in his arms. The other dragons were still flying around the ships, enjoying their reunion with their brothers-in-arms. Even so, Brienne noted there was always one dragon, other than Serdun, close enough to fire on any threat. Even now, the five didn't forget their first duty was to protect their family, always. Griff looked around at the men gathered on the deck of the _Sea Keeper_ and on the decks of the two war ships above them.

"Zaldrīzoti, māzigon naejot issa!" Griff called.

The dragons, as well trained and disciplined as any _Golden Company_ officers, immediately came to the deck, landing one at a time. They formed a straight line and looked up at Griff expectantly. He released Serdun to allow the injured dragon to take its place in their lineup. Serdun stretched out its wing then stood to attention, along with the other dragons, officers, fighters and squires. Brienne watched the five with a warm smile, proud of their flawless performance.

She was so focused on the dragons that she didn't notice the man who came to join them. Griff and the dragons did, as they all turned their heads to watch him climb up the rope ladder to the deck. The new man was dark-skinned, with a head and face of tightly curling black hair. He was elegantly dressed in a plum-colored tunic, light breeches and high boots of bleached white leather inlaid with silver scrollwork.

"Lord Salladhor, excellent work," Griff commended the man.

"Thank you, your Grace," Salladhor replied. "As I assured you, the _Golden Fleet_ is well on its way to becoming the greatest naval armada on the Narrow Sea and beyond."

Griff nodded. He, Serjeant and Salladhor came over to where Brienne, Tanda and the others were gathered near the railing. The dragons also came to join them. The five looked up at Salladhor with interest but without concern. Clearly, they knew him and weren't alarmed by his presence. Brienne shifted to rise to her feet. Griff put his hand on her shoulder to keep her seated.

Salladhor looked from Griff's hand still on Brienne's shoulder to Brienne herself. He smiled and bowed, revealing brilliant white teeth and a dramatic flair. Serjeant crossed his arms and snorted at his performance. Salladhor ignored him, his brilliant smile focused on Brienne.

"You can only be Lady Ser Brienne," Salladhor straightened, his dark eyes openly assessing at he looked her over. "The Gods' warrior, the keeper of the dragons, Lady of Tarth, officer of the _Golden Company_, knight of the Seven Kingdoms, the King's sworn sword and _Lightbringer_."

Serjeant snorted again. "She keeps this up and soon she'll have more names than the Dragon Queen."

Brienne flushed but nodded. "I'm Brienne of Tarth."

"It's a pleasure to meet you, my Lady Ser." Salladhor looked at the group gathered near her and nodded in greeting. "I'm eager to discuss your strategies for engaging pirates. Your first battle plan was crude but very effective."

"Battle plan?" Jaime's eyes widened as he stared between Brienne and Salladhor. "You created battle strategies for the _Golden Company_?"

"Not really. It was my father's plan," she admitted. "I just adapted it for a smaller ship."

"Ahh, Lord Tarth," Salladhor nodded. "I know him well. It's not a surprise his daughter is as direct and efficient as he is."

Now Brienne's eyes widened. "You know my father?"

"All too well, my Lady Ser. I used to be a pirate before Griff, er, his Grace, recruited me to build the _Golden Company's_ naval forces," Salladhor explained.

Brienne's shock turned to disapproval. Pirate attacks were a threat every port city endured. Tarth, being an island, suffered attacks on all sides. Selwyn Tarth didn't tolerate thieves or slavers. This man must have been a very good pirate to have survived multiple run-ins with her father. She looked up at Serjeant and recalled their conversation on the Braavosi dock so many months ago.

"_How many pirate ships have you crushed, how many pirates have you captured while flashing your ridiculous warning signal?" Brienne straightened to try to match his considerable height._

_Serjeant scowled. "Their ships are smaller, lighter and faster than the ones we protect. But," he loomed over her again, "the ones we do protect haven't suffered a single attack. Our master-of-ships, a former Lyseni pirate, is developing a strategy for taking down pirates."_

"_So, until then you'll allow your men to be guards instead of warriors? How will they learn to fight at sea if they don't engage the enemy?" she asked calmly, refusing to be intimidated._

"_Do you have a plan to engage pirates?" he demanded. "Better than a former Lyseni pirate?"_

"_What does a pirate know about taking out other pirates?" she demanded. "I lived on an island all of my life. Pirate attacks are common. We had to learn how to stop them, quickly and immediately, as we didn't have a full company of the greatest fighters in the world to save us."_

"_Our way will be better; efficient and clean." Serjeant insisted._

"_But your way doesn't exist yet. Until it does, your master-of-ship's plans are just words." Her mouth curled. "And words are wind."_

"You're the former Lyseni pirate charged with developing the Company's strategy to take down other pirates," Brienne surmised. "You're very effective, my Lord. These ships are magnificent."

She looked up at the warships on either side of the _Sea Keeper_. Both ships were enormous, great galleas, with openings for hundreds of oars as well as full-sized sails. The _Sea Keeper_ could hold off a small pirate attack, three or four ships at the most. These ships could hold off – and capture – massive runners and warships.

"These ships, the _Valyrian_ and the _Bird of a Thousand Colors,_ are part of my fleet from my former profession." Salladhor swept both arms out to gesture to the massive galleas. "These beauties are part of the reason King Aegon is fast-developing the greatest naval armada in the known world."

"You can't dock them here," Bronn protested. "They're so big they're blocking the channel. You have to dock them in open water."

Salladhor looked Bronn over from his disheveled hair to his singed and worn leather jacket down to his scuffed, unpolished boots. Bronn may have been knighted but he was a knight without lands, thus without great wealth. The former pirate's gaze narrowed on _Fortune_, gleaming and elegant, hanging from Bronn's sword belt.

"And you are?" the former pirate prompted, barely able to drag his gaze away from the highly prized Valyrian steel.

Bronn rested his hand on his sword. He didn't draw it but held it securely. "I'm Ser Bronn of the Blackwater."

Bronn bowed but it was shallow and sharp, nothing like the deep, sweeping bow Salladhor had graced upon Brienne. Given Bronn's deepening scowl, it didn't appear the knight was interested in impressing the former pirate with his grace or courtly manners.

"Interesting." Salladhor swept into another graceful bow. "I am Salladhor Saan, Prince of the Narrow Sea, Lord of Blackwater Bay and Lord of Rook's Rest."

"Lord of Blackwater Bay?" Bronn turned to Tyrion. "How come he's the Lord of Blackwater Bay and I'm only a knight of the same piss pool?"

"Bronn!" Jaime, Tyrion and Griff all hissed, almost in unison.

Serjeant snorted again. Tanda sighed while Ned shook his head. Balon and Moqorro watched with their normal calm acceptance. The dragons turned their heads from Salladhor to Bronn as if following their conversation. All around them, the men of the _Golden Company_ watched them with calm, neutral expressions, like those of Balon and Moqorro.

"Regardless of the titles formerly given to Lord Salladhor," Griff gave him a sideways glance. "Or the ones he gave himself, Lord Salladhor's formal title is Lord of Rook's Rest."

Tyrion frowned. "The _Golden Company_ was only granted Rosby in the Crownlands. Rook's Rest is not yours to take."

"The seat has been without leadership for many years, Lord Tyrion," Griff noted. "It's on the mouth of the bay, ideal as the second line of defense for a naval fleet to guard both Dragonstone and the shores of Blackwater Bay. Plus, the lands around it are fertile but haven't been farmed properly. It's a crime to leave the lands barren when the people are hungry. Stokeworth and Rosby have been providing food for the capital since your sister destroyed House Tyrell. Their resources are wearing thin. I'm sure Lady Tanda will be delighted to have assistance. She'll guide Lord Salladhor and Lord Balaq to make all the keeps in the Crownlands productive and useful."

Griff looked to the Lady of Stokeworth, as did everyone else. Unlike Brienne, Tanda didn't blush under their regard. The lady knew her own worth and her value to her king. Being tasked with teaching former pirates and hardened warriors to be land-rich lords didn't fluster her. She sat very tall and nodded graciously, as if seated on a throne instead of a barrel.

"It will be my honor, your Grace," Tanda assured him. "If the lords will begin quickly, we can have a full harvest of carrots, beets and radishes in a month's time."

"There, you see, Lord Tyrion?" Griff turned back to the Hand. "Lady Tanda understands how to bring the best results out of the land. Vegetables harvested from the Crownlands can be brought to the capital in a day's time, thus avoiding spoilage. Will your queen find fault in our working quickly to feed the starving people, Lord Hand?"

Tyrion hesitated then shook his head. Brienne understood his hesitation. Daenerys had given the _Golden Company_ only one keep in the Crownlands. Griff had taken Rook's Rest but offered an easily implemented plan to make the lands useful, feed the people and protect Blackwater Bay. That was the secret to Griff's strategic brilliance. Even as he took, he gave back, ensuring the other party received good value while strengthening his own position. That made it difficult for those standing against him to separate their gains from their potential losses without harming their own self-interests.

"Are we going to chit-chat all afternoon, or can we get on with it?" Serjeant demanded.

Griff's eyebrows rose. He was the Prince of Dorne and the rightful King of the Westeros, but here, on the _Sea Keeper_, his men didn't see Aegon Martell Targaryen or even the _Sword of the Morning_. They saw only Griff, the secret leader who had promised them lands, titles and riches if they followed him. Griff nodded and Serjeant beckoned to an officer standing nearby. The man came to him and presented a scroll.

Serjeant straightened to his full height and cleared his throat. He held the scroll in both hands, as if it were a precious offering. "Officer Brienne Tarth."

His voice was so deep and formal, Brienne shivered to hear it. She tried to push off the barrel and to rise to her feet. Once again, Griff restrained her. He put his hand back on her shoulder, preventing her from putting her weight on her still-healing feet. Serjeant ignored their tussle and continued in his booming voice.

"You have served your Company with distinction. You completed, almost single-handedly, the single richest contract in _Golden Company_ history. You and the dragons secured the Iron Throne for House Targaryen." Serjeant paused long enough to smile down at the young dragons before he continued. "Commander Strickland and I agree you have more than earned your promotion." He held out the scroll to her. "Therefore, you are raised to the rank of Serjeant in the _Golden Company_."

It took several seconds for Brienne to react, her mind replaying the words in her head. Griff hadn't misquoted when he had called her Serjeant, not Officer. Not only was she accepted in the _Golden Company_, she has been promoted. She hadn't had to fight for recognition or demand she be treated equally. An honor she'd earned had been freely given to her. Hot and cold chills ran down Brienne's body as she held out her hands for the scroll.

Serjeant grinned as he handed over the parchment. Brienne was shocked at how her hands shook as she took the paper from him. Her breath caught as she unwrapped it and traced over her name the fine script with trembling fingers. Though she read at it, she couldn't believe it. Even seeing her name on the paper wasn't enough for her to accept it.

"Serjeant Brienne Tarth!" Griff's voice was so loud it carried to the warships.

"Serjeant Brienne Tarth!"

The words reverberated through her as the men on the _Golden Company_ ships repeated her new rank and address. Tears clogged her throat and threatened to push out of her eyes. She blinked them back, determined to accept this honor with dignity and professionalism. Griff and the _Golden Company_ had protected her and the dragons when they desperately needed help. The Company had smuggled them in and out of ports; fought off pirates; endured months in Valyria, against slavers and stone men; and engaged in a campaign of silence to protect the baby dragons. Now, after doing all that, they were sharing in her promotion. _She belonged_.

The dragons, picking up on her amazed joy, screeched and took to the sky. They flew circles over the three ships, their screeches so loud they attracted attention even from the walls of the capital. The men on all three ships broke ranks to cheer and whistle again, seemingly as pleased by Brienne's promotion as the dragons. Brienne shuddered with the effort it took to maintain her stoic expression. It took a second for her befuddled mind to realize Serdun had flown up with the other dragons.

"Serdun!" she gasped.

The green dragon understood its own limitations. While the other dragons flew around the ships, Serdun was up on the mast rope of the _Sea Keeper_, the vantage point it so enjoyed even from before it could fly. Serdun held out its wings, their length now spanning the width of the rope line, as it absorbed the sun's rays. The men on the warships cheered as the other dragons flew over and around them, squawking with pleasure.

Brienne looked around her. The men on the _Sea Keeper_ smiled and held up their arms, their gold arm rings shining in the sun. It was customary for the Company men to keep their wealth close to them as, before now, they had no lands or permanent homes to store them. It appeared they had collected more gold since she'd last been with them.

_The single richest contract in _Golden Company_ history_.

Cersei had been so desperate to augment her dwindling armies that she'd bankrupted Highgarden to hire the _Golden Company_. If Qyburn and Griff hadn't worked against her, the Company might have been enough to keep her in power, or at least, to keep her alive. But Cersei had made too many enemies and no true allies. Now all of Highgarden's wealth had been transferred to the _Golden Company_, to the men who were slowing taking over empty lands and titles, just as their secret leader had promised they would.

"Congratulations, my Lady Ser," Podrick said, his smile so wide his eyes crinkled in the corners. "May I see your commission?"

"Oh! Of course." Brienne flushed as she returned his smile.

Brienne tilted the parchment so Podrick and Ned, standing beside him, could see the script. Ned and Tanda both murmured their praises. Balon bent down to admire the scroll while Moqorro nodded his grave, serious nod. They both added their polite approval.

Brienne glanced over at Jaime, Tyrion and Bronn standing close to the railing, observing quietly. Jaime's mouth pulled down at the corners, his expression almost sad as he watched the men and soaring dragons. Some of Brienne's euphoria dissipated as she realized that Jaime, while he was respected by his men, hadn't been given any commendation since before he'd killed King Aerys. He'd gone so long as the reviled Kingslayer, the man without honor, that he'd been forced to put away the feelings of being admired and celebrated to keep his sanity intact.

Tyrion, standing beside his brother, looked almost as discouraged. Brienne understood why the Hand to Queen Daenerys was disheartened by the display. He'd watched Griff distribute honor after honor, title after title, keep after keep and was helpless to stop him. Brienne had known from the beginning that Tyrion would be no match for the rightful King of the Seven Kingdoms. Even Tywin Lannister would have been unable to best a man who had two armies, dragons, cunning and the temperament to be a just ruler.

Bronn also looked disgruntled, but it wasn't because he wanted adulation or control. No, Bronn also wanted lands and titles of his own. He'd followed the Lannister brothers because they'd offered him gold and knighthood. Now that he had both, Brienne knew the knight wanted more. Neither Jaime nor Tyrion had delivered on their promise of a castle and a high-born wife. Now it appeared they would never be able to fulfill that vow.

"Brienne, this is also for you," Serjeant said.

Brienne looked up to see another officer come up to Serjeant with a small wooden box. Serjeant opened the box and withdrew a thick golden arm ring. The golden rings on his arm jangled as he held out the band to her. Brienne held out a shaking hand and accepted the gold. She was shocked by how heavy the circle was.

"I haven't completed my first year with the company," she protested. "I thought arm bands were given to mark the number of years with the Company."

Serjeant snorted. "You've made the Company richer in your half-year than many Commanders have it their entire careers."

"She had help," Salladhor pointed out mildly and looked up at the dragons. "Magical help."

"And we've all reaped the rewards of it," Griff reminded, a sharp rebuke in his tone.

"Very true," Salladhor agreed easily. "Our ranks and fleet are swelling with the number of men desperate to join the _Golden Company_."

"Shall I assist you in putting it on, my Lady Ser?" Podrick asked, faithful and steady as always.

Brienne held out her hand to him. Her squire slid the band carefully over her fingers, pressing them to fit the golden circle over her knuckles. He stepped back so they could all admire the symbol of Brienne's allegiance with the _Golden Company_. The band's weight was heavy and unfamiliar on her wrist. She pushed it up higher on her arm, as she'd seen the men do, so that it rested closer to her elbow than her wrist. That made the band fit better and kept her out of her way.

"It suits you, my Lady Ser," Podrick commented.

Tanda snorted. "Gold suits everyone." Then she nodded. "You are correct, Podrick. The golden arm band looks right on Lady Ser Brienne's arm."

Podrick grinned, pleased to be validated. Ned and Balon both nodded in agreement. Moqorro studied the band for a long moment before he, too, nodded. Jaime, Bronn and Tyrion remained to the side, watching quietly. The three exchanged glances but didn't comment.

"Podrick," Griff called, regaining everyone's attention. "Don't think we've forgotten you."

Brienne's attention was pulled away from her arm band as she looked at her squire. Podrick put his hand on his chest, if unsure he was the 'Podrick' Griff had called to. Griff grinned and waved his hand to motion Podrick forward. Podrick looked at Brienne uncertainly. She nodded and gave him a gentle push forward.

Podrick stepped forward and bowed. "Yes, your Grace?"

"Podrick, you've shown great courage and steadfastness," Griff said and nodded to the officer holding the wooden box. "You've served Serjeant Tarth faithfully, protected the dragons and defended innocents from unjust swords."

Serdun, on the mast rope above them, screeched. The other dragons, alerted by its cry, returned to the deck of the _Sea Keeper_. Griff paused while the dragons landed and rejoined the officers, as eager to observe Podrick's commendation as they were to witness Brienne's promotion. Brienne gasped when Serdun glided down, but the action didn't seem to hurt the injured dragon. The officers calmly shifted aside to accommodate the five.

"Thank you, your Grace." Podrick stood straight and still, despite the fierce color reddening his face and neck.

Griff nodded again to the officer. The man held out the box and Griff withdrew another golden band. This one was significantly thinner than the one Brienne had been given but gleamed with the same pure golden shine. Griff smiled as he held it out to Podrick. The squire's eyes widened and his mouth dropped open. He looked from the band to Griff then back at the band, blinking as if unsure he was really seeing it.

"Podrick, take it," Griff urged.

Podrick put out his hand to receive the precious reward. Brienne's heart ached at the disbelieving expression on his face. Though Podrick came from a noble family, he was a member of a lesser branch. He'd been abandoned as a young boy, forced to fend for himself with only his name and his loyal nature to recommend him. The band, though thin, was more gold than he'd had in his entire life.

Griff placed the band in her squire's open hand. Podrick continued to stare at the gold, his eyes wide but unseeing. Bronn, leaning against the railing, straightened and snorted.

"What's the matter?" the knight demanded. "The band too shiny and distracting for you? I can hold it, if you can't."

"Podrick," Brienne called quietly.

Her voice broke the shock that had held him. Podrick turned to her and blinked, then smiled. The dragons, picking up on his amazement and pleasure, cried out. That further grounded her young squire. He bowed to Griff and walked to her, holding out the band for her inspection. Brienne took the band from him and, as he had done for her, gently eased the golden ring over his hand and up his arm.

Griff smiled at the dumbfounded expression still on Podrick's face. He looked at Serjeant then at Salladhor. Both men nodded, as if answering an unspoken question. Griff nodded back then turned to face his men. His gaze went from the men in front of him to sweep over the fighters on the warships on either side of the _Sea Keeper_.

"Not long ago, I promised to bring you victory, wealth and glory if you swore your allegiance to me." His voice throbbed with command. "I told you I was Aegon the Sixth Targaryen, rightful King of the Seven Kingdoms, rightful King of the Andals, the Rhoynar, and the First Men. I vowed to restore your lost heritages, return the keeps and titles stolen from your families, as the Iron Throne was stolen from mine. I have kept my word. You stand now, richer than you've ever been."

The men cried out, shaking their arms, allowing their gold arm bands to jingle and shine in the bright sunshine.

Griff walked to the railing on the starboard side. "Many have already reclaimed their family castles or have taken new titles and keeps."

Serjeant, Salladhor and many of the officers clapped. They were joined by clapping and whistles from their squires and the other fighters.

Griff walked to the railing on the port side. "The Golden Company's reputation is greater than ever before. Men now will pay for the privilege of serving at your side. Your glory has never been greater."

The men on all three ships roared with delight. The dragons, sensing the heightening approval being directed to Griff, added their screeches to the men's cries.

Griff returned to the center but continued to address the fighters. "You've walked on Westerosi soil, a right you'd been denied for years, if not for generations."

The men and dragons cried again. Brienne glanced over at the council members. Ned and Balon had blank, impassive expressions on their faces. Tanda frowned, seeming more concerned about the dragons' excitement than the men. Tyrion's expression was caught between alarm and anger, as he watched Griff solidify his standing before them. Jaime's face was grim, looking at the men who Griff had brought to ensure his rule. Bronn's expression was tight, seeing the almost fanatical loyalty of the Company men.

"I have kept my promises," Griff continued, his indigo eyes blazing with internal fire. "I, Aegon Martell Targaryen, have brought you home!"

The men's cries and outpouring of approval was a wave that washed over them from all sides. Brienne shivered as the powerful emotions caused the fine hairs on her arms to stand on end. Podrick shifted closer to her, as if the sentiments unsettled him. The dragons, even more sensitive than they were, cried out and took to flight. Griff moved quickly and caught Serdun before the injured dragon could leap into the sky. Serdun strained briefly but settled in Griff's arms. The other dragons flew over their heads, their wings creating a wind that tossed Brienne's hair into her eyes.

Griff studied the men with obvious satisfaction. He turned in a full circle, Serdun's long wings draped over his arms, the verdant green and orange markings echoing the glory of sunset. The dragon wrapped it neck around his head and its tail around his waist. It was almost as if man and dragon were merging into a single fierce creature.

Griff turned to Serjeant. "Raise my sigil!"

Serjeant nodded to a man standing near the mast rope. Salladhor waved to men on the warships. In seconds, the plain gold banner of the _Golden Company_ was lowered and, in its place, was the new banner of Aegon Martell Targaryen was raised. Griff had positioned the three-headed red dragon sigil of House Targaryen in the center of the flaming sun. The spear from House Nymeros Martell's sigil was now in the dragon's claws, holding the weapon as it speared the sun.

The men roared with approval. The dragons screeched in response. Brienne stared at the new sigil, her heart suddenly beating desperately fast. _The dragon spears the sun_. Something about the sigil, the new symbol of Aegon Martell Targaryen, stirred a sense of recognition, of having seen the image before. But where had she seen it? Who, other than Griff could lay claim to both the dragons and the sun?

**Author's Note**: The beautiful sigil of Aegon Martell Targaryen was created by the wonderful _Aldarion_. I thank you a thousand times for creating it. Does seeing Griff's sigil remind you of anything? It's a very important clue to the army of men's strategy to fight the Army of the Dead.

I'm sorry but FF doesn't allow me to post images. You can see Griff's sigil on my Imgur page. Please remove spaces to follow the link:

playgirl. imgur all


	49. Gold Keeper

The Keeper

Chapter 49 – Gold Keeper

Brienne and Podrick were quiet as they returned from the _Golden Fleet_ ships to the Red Keep. The dragons, except Serdun, flew overhead, swooping around in the golden sunshine but staying close to their boat. Griff had Serdun in his arms but the green dragon didn't attempt to leave him. It watched Tanda with the same focused concentration as Griff and Ned. The three listened to Tanda explain her plans for crop improvement. Tanda was so enthusiastic about the subject that she gestured with her hands. Her excitement to share her ideas had made her forget her fear of the dragon only an arm's length away.

Brienne looked over to Podrick, who stood quiet and still beside her. He appeared spellbound by the circle of gold on his forearm. She'd tucked her own golden band under her dress sleeve but understood his fascination. It took all of her control not to unroll the parchment and admire her new commission. Her gold band was heavy but the scroll tucked into her belt pressed harder against her conscious mind. The gold was valuable but it was the validation that Brienne truly treasured. She'd been born into privilege and comfort, raised by a father who valued honor and duty above all things and had given her every advantage.

Podrick hadn't been so fortunate. Despite the obstacles in his path, he'd earned gold, true wealth, by his loyalty, hard work and effort. The dragons hadn't been with them when he'd ridden at her side through the cold and brutal North. He'd fought off the Bolton men to save Sansa and Theon, endured wolf packs and the white winds to take Sansa to Castle Black, travelled through the tumultuous Riverlands to try to recruit Brynden Tully and had agreed, without hesitation, to go to Valyria with her.

Unlike the members of the _Golden Company_, Podrick hadn't been promised wealth or security when he'd joined Brienne. It shamed her to remember she hadn't been kind to him at first, had even tried to send him away. But Podrick had stayed and she was thankful for it. He'd nursed her back to health after her fight with Sandor and stood guard while they'd journeyed to Braavos. Many times, when she'd doubted herself, her belief in honor and duty, Podrick had been the only one to support her. She remembered their dinner with Griff and Tristan in Tyrosh.

"_Why does any man follow a king or a commander?" Brienne countered. "I followed Renly because he was my lord and I believed in the world he wanted to build. Why did you choose to stay with me, even after I offered to let you leave?"_

"_I stay because I believe in your honor." Podrick spoke softly. "I'm a better man when I'm with you."_

He may consider himself a better man when with her, but she was also a better person for being with him. Brienne patted his shoulder. Podrick looked up and smiled at her. He stood up straight and, as she'd done, pulled his sleeve down to cover his gold band. But he still felt the weight and validation of it. She could see it in his eyes, the new confidence and surety in their sparkle. It was odd how a small, hidden circle of gold made him appear older and more accomplished.

"Your Grace, there might be trouble," Ned warned, looking to the water's edge.

Brienne and Podrick followed his gaze to see Varys waiting for them at the foot of the steps. As he often did, the Spider had his hands tucked under his sleeves. The expression on his face was set and serious, his mouth turned down at the corners and his shoulders stooped. Tanda stopped speaking and strained to look around Ned's larger body. Griff, taller than all of them, looked over their heads.

"We've only been gone an hour," Tanda pointed out. "What could have happened so quickly?" Then she grimaced. "Never mind. Full war can descend in an hour."

"No, that's not the cause. We would have heard the commotion," Griff assured it.

"The Westerlands army is manning the walls, guarding the graveyards and supplementing the Gold Cloaks as they patrol the city," Ned reminded her. "Now his Grace has brought nearly a thousand of his own men to take over when the Westerlands armies travel north. We're prepared to defend the capital."

They were tense and quiet, the mood heavier as they were rowed to shore. The dragons, sensing the deepening atmosphere, stayed close to their boat. Griff relaxed his hold on Serdun but the dragon stayed with him, sniffing the air for the source of the tension. As soon as they were in the shallow, Griff and Ned jumped out of their boat. Their boots sloshed in the shallow waters lapping the shore as they strode to Varys. Brienne scrambled to keep up with them. Varys, his newly growing silver stubble shining in the sun, bowed to greet his king.

"Lord Varys, what happened?" Griff demanded, ignoring protocol.

"There has been a…" Varys paused, as if searching for the correct word, "situation, your Grace."

Griff released Serdun as the rest of the dragons landed around them. Their boat grounded on the sand. Podrick helped Tanda as the second boat pulled up alongside the first. Jaime, Bronn and Balon also sloshed to the shore before the boat grounded. Tyrion and Moqorro looked at Varys intently, as if their visual intensity would allow them to hear better.

"Which situation?" Griff demanded.

Varys glanced at Jaime before looking back at Griff. "The blacksmiths and their staff are all busy repairing the Valyrian swords and building dragonglass weapons. Some orphans offered to gather dragonglass from the tourney field for coins."

Griff nodded. "Yes, as I expected. As one man's efforts reward him with coins, he pays others for their services, thus lifting them both."

Brienne remembered their exchange the morning after Griff returned to the capital. He'd known work and opportunity would lift the people in the capital out of their despair, give them a sense of pride and control over some aspects of their lives. Food and dignity had been scarce since the Lannisters' reigns began.

"_Yes, she was also creating work for the dressmaker," Brienne reminded him. "The woman was paid for her work."_

"_Correct. What will the dressmaker do with the coin?" Griff prompted._

_Brienne stared at him. "She'll use it to buy the things she needs."_

"_Exactly," he agreed. "There isn't enough food to feed all the people, but there is enough trade and shipments to feed those who have coin to buy food. So, the dressmaker buys fish, then the fishmonger now has coin to buy new clothes from the dressmaker or shoes from the cobbler. Once the cobbler had coins from his trade, he has money to buy food. And the cycle continues."_

_Brienne took a moment to think through Griff's words. "So, your plan is to create work for those who are in trade and have skills. That will allow them to buy each other's products so they will all have fish, dresses and shoes. Will that work?"_

"_It's working for the blacksmiths," Griff noted. "They've been laboring day and night since you and the dragons released the Valyrian steel weapons. They're also forging arrows and swords from dragonglass. Not only do they have coins to buy food and shoes, they've also brought on helpers to clean and polish while they perform the skilled work. So, now some unskilled workers also have coins. We continue that process with more work for more people."_

"That's good, isn't it?" Brienne asked. She looked around as the others came to join them. "We want everyone to have work and earn coins, don't we? Harvesting dragonglass gives the orphans coins and frees up the smith's assistants to polish and finish the weapons."

"Giving coins to orphans is good but only if they're in a safe environment." Varys's already tight face became even more grim. "The children were in the tourney field when they were attacked."

"Attacked?" Brienne's horror made her voice crack. "The Army of the Dead attacked again?"

Around her, Griff, Jaime, Balon, Bronn and Ned reached for their swords. Brienne had _Bright Star _in her hand without even thinking about it. Podrick bravely stepped in front of Tanda and Tyrion, his hand on his own sword. The dragons all hissed and puffed, sensing the tension in the air. The row men, still on the boats, also reached for their swords and looked around for a threat.

Varys grimaced. "It wasn't the Army of the Dead who attacked them. It was the Westerlands troops."

"What?" Jaime gasped.

His face paled. Beside him Bronn, normally flippant, looked grim and shook his head. Ned and Balon exchanged glances then looked to Griff, watching the dangerous color flush into his face. The dragons hissed, absorbing their heightening tension.

"The new troops arrived this morning," Varys explained. "They were in the tourney grounds, waiting for assignments, when the children went out."

"They attacked the children?" Griff clarified. "How badly were they hurt?"

Varys grimaced. "Several girls were bruised and manhandled, but none have serious injuries. A few of the bigger boys tried to protect them. The archers reacted instantly when they heard the children screaming and the men cheering."

"Screaming and cheering." Brienne shuddered with the effort to keep her voice even. "The men gathered around helpless little girls being assaulted and _cheered_. And, as further entertainment, they attacked the boys who tried to help them."

She shuddered again, remembering her ordeal in the bear pit at Harrenhall. Locke's men had gathered around and cheered as she bled from the bear's claws. If Jaime hadn't come back for her, she would have died that day. The Gods had saved Jaime time and again, allowing him to protect her when she needed it. She looked up at him. His face was white and his emerald eyes dark, as if he was also remembering that day. Brienne heard Griff's voice in her head, reminding her how intertwined their lives really were.

"_The man who killed a king who thought he'd be reborn as a dragon saved a woman who truly brought dragons into the world."_

"_It was meant to be, wasn't it?" Brienne sighed, heavy pressure making her heart ache. "You, I, Ser Jaime, the Mad King and the dragons are all linked. There is a thread that connects us all, isn't there?"_

_Griff nodded. "Man cannot understand the will of the Gods. He can only have faith and follow the path they lay before him."_

Life was full of terrible tragedies, good men who died too soon, evil men who lingered too long. They, as simple human beings, saw only the events that shaped their own lives. They didn't understand their lives weren't just their own. They were part of a larger plan, a grand design, fashioned for the survival of humanity, not just specific people. Even so, some evil shouldn't be allowed to take root.

Varys sighed. "The archers shot into the group with burning arrows. They heard the children's screams and reacted. Everyone is on edge since the attack from the Army of the Dead. Several of the fighters are seriously injured, but none have died from their injuries."

"Not yet, but they will," Griff vowed. "Where are these men?"

"Where are the children?' Brienne demanded. "Who's taking care of them?"

Varys turned to Griff. "The men are still on the tourney grounds, demanding the archers who shot them be punished or put out." Then he turned to Brienne. "The children have been taken to the maester's chamber." He paused, his expression regretful. "A few of them suffered burns as well. The maester assures me they will all make full recoveries. But the children refuse to go back on the grounds until the Westerlands troops are removed."

Brienne gasped, rage burning through her. "Are these men isolated? I won't spare them."

"Brienne, I'm the Lord Commander," Jaime said, his face still flushed and his voice so even, it was flat. "I'll take care of the attackers."

"Ser Jaime, there's only one way to deal with men who attack helpless children or cheer while they're being assaulted," Brienne snarled.

"Yes, I remember," Jaime reminded her. "I was with you in the Riverlands."

Brienne's fury didn't decrease remembering the three women's hanging bodies when she'd first been assigned to take Jaime back to King's Landing. Then the men who'd attacked, killed and hung them had come back.

"_What do you think of these beauties?"_

"_I hope you gave them quick deaths." _

"_Two of them we did, yeah."_

Lannister men, Stark men, any men who assaulted the defenseless, made sport of the suffering of others and degraded the helpless didn't deserve to live. Though Brienne valued life and fought to protect it, she knew some people must die, if only to preserve and protect society. She wasn't squeamish about punishing the guilty.

"Then you know what I'm going to do them," Brienne snapped. "They hurt the very people we're working so hard to protect. I won't tolerate it."

"Nor will I," Jaime assured her. "I'll make an example of them."

"How?" Griff demanded. "You admitted you're useless with your left hand. The man who passes the sentence should swing the sword. I have two good hands to cut off their useless heads."

"You can't be the one to punish them, your Grace," Balon spoke up.

Everyone turned to look at the usually quiet knight. Balon rarely spoke, preferring to observe while others debated. That he felt strongly enough about his point to speak up drew everyone's attention. His expression was serious with his mouth downturned. He sighed and looked back at them with his dark, earnest eyes.

"Ser Jaime will lead these men north," Balon explained. "They must respect his command. He'll be responsible for disciplining them on the journey. If he can't do it now, if they won't accept and follow his orders, isn't it best you know it before they leave?"

Griff, his face flushed and his eyes blazing, paused. The fire eased as he thought over Balon's words. Tanda nodded with approval at the gallant knight. Ned frowned down at the dragons who were still puffed and defensive, ready to defend their family from any threat. The dragons hissed, looking for the source of their parents' rage.

"The people of the Riverlands have been ravaged by all sides," Tyrion pointed out. "They don't trust Lannisters _or_ Starks. They must see the men there will truly protect them."

"Plus, your Grace, if you go to the tourney grounds some of the dragons will go with you," Ned added. "Once you draw _Dawn_, they'll burn anyone they sense is a threat to you. You know not everyone is pleased to have the rightful King of Westeros taking command of the capital. They may kill men innocent of the attacks. That will demoralize the troops."

Griff took a deep breath and took his hand off _Dawn_. In response, the other men also released their swords. The dragons remained tense, seeing Brienne still had a tight grip on _Bright Star_. Griff reached out to cover her hand with his.

"Brienne, put your sword away. Ser Jaime will resolve this matter. If he can't, the entire journey through the Riverlands will be a repeat of this. The people must know those we send to protect them will not turn on them." He nodded to the council members. "I've chosen my advisors well. You've given me good advice."

It wasn't just that Griff had chosen good advisors, it was also that he listened to their advice. The greatest advisors in the world were useless if their ruler didn't consider their suggestions. If Griff agreed with them, then so should she. It took a force of will, but Brienne re-sheathed _Bright Star_ in her sword belt. Around them, the dragons relaxed as everyone turned to look at Jaime. He nodded, with his jaw locked and his eyes blazing wildfire. The Lord Commander stood tall and resolute, sure in his duty and his ability.

"I may not have two hands but I do have the loyalty of my officers," Jaime reminded them. "They've always carried out my commands with hesitation. Some even fought through fire with me." He looked down briefly at the dragons. "I assure you. I will deal with this."

Bronn, standing beside him, had been uncharacteristically quiet. Now the knight pulled _Fortune_ out of his sword belt. He held up the blade, allowing the Valyrian steel to shine in the sun.

"Well, those men are about to have the kiss of good _Fortune_," he commented.

"Good fortune?" Tyrion repeated. "I don't think they'll agree that death by Valyrian steel is better than any other."

"Not for them." Bronn twirled his sword expertly. "But it'll be a nice show for the ladies. Nothing like seeing a handsome knight protecting them to get women to melt like honey in the sun."

"I think they might be blinded by the shining gold," Tyrion suggested dryly, looking at his tall, handsome older brother.

Bronn frowned at _Fortune_. "My sword isn't made of gold. It's Valyrian steel."

"Ahh, yet another thing that might distract the ladies from you," Tyrion pretended to sympathize.

Bronn looked from his sword to Jaime standing beside him, then glared at Tyrion. The knight's mouth twisted as he returned his sword to its sheath. _Fortune_ gleamed, the distinctive ripple design sending off sparkles in the bright sunlight. Griff looked from the blade to Bronn then to Jaime.

"After you've dealt with these men, prepare to take your troops north," Griff commanded. "The people will not accept the Westerlands soldiers in the capital once they learn of these attacks. My men will take over the protection of the city."

"We were waiting for the blacksmiths to finish repairing the Valyrian swords and to make more dragonglass weapons," Jaime explained.

"I'll order the smiths to hand over everything they have," Griff agreed. "Once your troops leave, we'll make arrangements to gather the dragonglass from the tourney field. The remainder of the _Iron Fleet_ should arrive in a few days. They'll take what the blacksmiths build after your troops leave."

Jaime hesitated then nodded. "I'll tell my officers to begin the arrangements."

"Immediately," Griff shot back. "I want the Westerlands troops out of King's Landing by daybreak tomorrow."

Jaime's eyes widened but his brother spoke first.

"Tomorrow?" Tyrion's eyes were also wide. "Can they be ready that quickly?"

"They don't have a choice," Griff insisted bluntly. "They leave at daybreak. I've just begun to restore the people's trust in House Targaryen. Guarding them with men who attack defenseless children does not inspire trust. The Westerlands troops will leave immediately. That's my final decision." He turned to glare at Jaime. "Is that a problem?"

Jaime swallowed visibly. His gaze shifted from Griff to Brienne. Griff moved, blocking Jaime's view of Brienne. Jaime's eyes narrowed as he looked back at Griff. He nodded without speaking. Not waiting to be dismissed, he turned and strode up the cement steps, Bronn only a few steps behind him.

"Are the Westerlands troops ready for the journey?" Tyrion asked. "What about the men who only arrived today?"

"It would have been better if they hadn't arrived," Griff shot back. "Men who attack helpless children have no place in civilized society. I want their heads on spikes by nightfall. Ser Balon, make sure the bodies are burned but the heads are mounted. The people will see what we do to those who attack our citizens."

"Yes, your Grace." Balon nodded then hurried after Jaime and Bronn.

"Your Grace, the other matter you asked me to attend to is under way," Varys said.

"What other matter?" Tyrion demanded.

"His Grace asked me to assemble the lords and ladies later this afternoon," Varys explained.

"Your Grace, if I may, I'd like to send ravens to the other lords in the Crownlands," Tanda said. "I need to determine what food supplies they have to feed the people and for planting. Now that many of the abandoned keeps are being restored, we must plant wisely to ensure the balance."

"Excellent idea, Lady Tanda," Griff praised. "We'll send a servant for you before the meeting begins." He turned to Tyrion. "Lord Hand, send ravens to my aunt and the Tully lords. Inform them the Westerlands armies will begin their journey north at sunrise."

Griff turned to walk up the steps, causing everyone else to follow after him. Brienne winced at the pain of walking on the hard stone after standing on the more forgiving sand. Podrick looked at her with concern.

"My Lady Ser, do your feet hurt you?" he asked anxiously.

Griff stopped in his tracks and turned around to look at her. "Brienne, rest your feet. I'll send a servant to you, as well, when it's time for the meeting."

Brienne looked up at him in dismay. "I'm your sworn sword, your Grace. My place is at your side."

Griff nodded. "It is but you're injured. I need you to regain your health to stand at my side. You and Serdun will rest until called."

"But, your Grace…" Brienne continued to protest.

"Brienne, I won't hear you." Griff put his hand up. "I command you and Serdun to rest. Podrick, you're charged with their care. I'll hold you responsible if they disobey me."

"Yes, your Grace," Podrick agreed, standing tall as if given an important assignment.

"You can't do that!" Brienne insisted. "You cannot hold Podrick responsible for my actions."

"I can and I will. If you refuse to obey my orders, I'll punish Podrick for your insubordination," Griff promised.

"That's blackmail!" Brienne gasped, indignation causing heat to flush her face.

"Yes, and it's very effective." Griff had the nerve to grin and wink at her. Then he deliberately turned his back, ignoring her sputtering protests. "Catren, Allwyn, māzigon naejot issa!"

Catren and Allwyn flew over Griff's head while Serdun, Ardayn and Gallan remained with her. Griff took a moment to murmur to the three dragons as Ned, Tanda and Tyrion nodded politely to Brienne, Podrick and Moqorro. Griff straightened from the dragons and smiled at her again. Then he smoothed out his expression as he led his council members up the steps to the Red Keep.

The dragons watched them go then flew up into the bright blue, cloudless sky. Brienne was so annoyed at being dismissed that it took her a moment to realize Serdun had also taken off with Galan and Ardayn.

"Serdun!" Brienne called.

Serdun had taken a powerful leap but, instead of flapping its wings, caught the breeze and glided to the top of the steps. Gallan and Ardayn flew above them, squawking as they soaked in the sun. Serdun took another leap, higher this time from its perch above them, then coasted in the warm breeze.

"Serdun is exercising its injury, my Lady Ser," Podrick noted. "The wing won't regain strength without effort."

"True." Brienne sighed and sat on the bottom step. "Perhaps we can sit here awhile and allow the dragons to play in the water."

Podrick wasn't fooled by her casual tone. "Your feet do hurt, don't they? Shall I fetch fresh cloth to bind them?"

"Allow me, my Lady Ser," Moqorro offered.

"Oh, no, there's no need," Brienne assured him. "My feet will be fine with just a rest."

Moqorro nodded. "Even so, I'd like to visit with the maester. I had time to interact with him while I stayed with the babies. And I'm familiar with the orphans from living in the alley in Flea Bottom. I can bring fresh bindings and more complete information on the children's injuries and conditions."

"Thank you, Moqorro. I would appreciate knowing more about the children," Brienne admitted. She didn't want to inconvenience the priest but she did want an update on their injuries.

The priest nodded and gave her his serious smile. He walked up the steps at his usual measured pace, hands pressed together and his expression calm. Brienne looked from him to the dragons in the sky then to the boats rowing back to the _Golden Fleet_ ships.

"The attack on the children points out one of the major flaws in King Aegon's plans to lift the Seven Kingdoms," Brienne remarked, allowing her gaze to travel beyond the boats to the _Sea Keeper_ and the warships. Even from here, she could see Griff's new sigil flutter in the gentle breeze.

Podrick sat down beside her. "In what way?"

"For every person who wants the king to succeed, there is another who doesn't." She sighed. "For every person who tries to lift the person beside them, there's another trying to beat them down."

"Isn't that why King Aegon is building up leaders such as Edmure Tully and Genna Frey?" Podrick asked. "So they can be his envoys to their own people? Would Lady Tanda be so eager to share her knowledge on crop growing if the king hadn't elevated her to his council? He's giving the leaders reason to support his measures."

Brienne thought about her squire's words as she watched Serdun glide back to the top of the staircase. Beyond the dragon, she saw people gathered along the walls of the Red Keep and leaning out of windows. No one dared risk the dragons' wrath by coming within hearing range. Still, everyone watched and waited, ready to report on their every action.

"But will it be enough?" Brienne mused, watching Serdun leap back into the sky. "Will gold and glory be enough for people to put aside their own desires and work towards the common good?"

"Gold and glory are powerful motivators, my Lady Ser." Podrick pulled back his sleeve to admire his new arm band. "Most people have no gold. They struggle for a few coins and bread."

Brienne also looked at his new band. "But what about men who already have gold and glory? The gold around our arms started out at Highgarden. Ser Jaime took his men to kill House Tyrell and their supporters. Most of House Tarly died on the trip back from Highgarden. Ser Jaime gave the gold to Cersei who then gave it to the _Golden Company_."

"Much of that gold has returned to the Reach," Podrick pointed out. "Commander Strickland has been sending his men to reopen abandoned keeps, assess people's needs and put down bandits. All the new lords have enough gold to run their lands."

Brienne nodded slowly. "It's also gone into the Riverlands. Brynden Tully is a good commander but he couldn't have taken the Twins without more men, weapons and supplies than he had when he took Riverrun."

"The Lannister gold is also on its way to the Riverlands," Podrick reminded her. "The Unsullied are taking what they can carry to Harrenhall. Then Yara Greyjoy will take it to Braavos to trade for food to feed the people in the North and the Riverlands."

"The Lannisters and the Tyrells used their wealth to prop up Joffrey, then Tommen. They nearly destroyed House Stark, most of the North and turned the Riverlands into a graveyard."

Brienne stopped speaking to watch Serdun coast back down to the water's edge. It extended its wings and screeched, as if to show her how quickly it was recovering. She smiled, despite their serious discussion, and held out her arms for the green and orange dragon. Serdun, independent by nature, and probably tired of being coddled, squawked indignantly and leapt back into the sky. It coasted over their heads to land at the top of the stairs before taking another, higher leap. She and Podrick exchanged relieved smiles.

"The Lannisters had no choice but to support Joffrey." Podrick returned to their conversation. "For all his cruelty and mistakes, Joffery was their blood. Lord Tywin's power partially came from his grandsons being king. Just as much of the Tyrell's power came from Margaery being queen."

"But, in the end, their rule and their power ended by their own mismanagement, mistakes, and arrogance," Brienne noted.

"Lord Qyburn said that Cersei was stupid because she abused those below her and thought it power," Podrick recalled.

Brienne stilled. She remembered that day, of seeing the mask Qyburn had used fall off. His contempt for Cersei had been a shock after so many months of seeing the ex-maester as a mild, unassuming advisor.

"_As I said before, she's so stupid she believed ordering around sycophants and servants was a display of power. She couldn't understand bullying those beneath her wasn't power, it was pathetic." Qyburn stepped back, so he was between Daenerys and Brienne. "These women have real power."_

_Brienne and Daenerys exchanged uneasy glances. Both looked at the dragons, but they were still calm. The dragons sensed something in Qyburn the humans were missing. But then Qyburn had proven to be deft at hiding his true nature. The man was far more cunning and clever than they'd imagined._

"_Look at these women, Cersei," Qyburn continued. "They walked into King's Landing and took your city, your castle, your guards, your throne and your illusion of control. They didn't bully, they didn't kill. They just claimed what they wanted. That's _real_ power."_

"Yes," Brienne agreed softly. "Power, like gold, belongs in the hands of those who know how to use it, to distribute it, to its maximum effect. Limiting power to only a few is like limiting gold to only a few. Those who have it become corrupted by it and those who don't shrivel without it."

"King Aegon knows how to use it." Podrick nodded. "He's funding the forces that brought down the Lannisters and the Freys, stabilized the Reach and are reshaping Westeros."

Brienne sighed. "Tomorrow, Ser Jaime and his troops will begin their march north. I hope they're ready for it."

"Ser Jaime is a seasoned battle commander," Podrick pointed out. "He efficiently broke the siege at Riverrun and destroyed House Tyrell. The only reason he lost his rear guard was because of Drogon. The Westerlands army could have held off the Dothraki attack if Drogon hadn't been with them. No man can stand against a dragon."

Brienne looked out at the _Sea Keeper_ and at Griff's new sigil. "Especially when that dragon has spent his whole life preparing to be king and wields the greatest sword in the known world."

Podrick followed her line of sight and also looked at the new sigil. "King Aegon doesn't need to be the _Sword of the Morning_ to rule Westeros. He has dragons of his own."

"_The dragon must have three heads," Selwyn announced quietly._

Brienne jerked and looked around, expecting to see her father. His voice had been so clear in her head. Ardayn and Gallan squawked and flew down to her, aware of her startled shock. Serdun had to glide down, thus had less control of its descent.

Podrick looked at her with concern. "What is it, my Lady Ser? Has the pain in your feet worsened?"

Brienne shook her head and held up her hand, indicating she needed a moment of silence. Podrick stroked Gallan and Ardayn while watching Serdun as it glided down to the water's edge. Brienne stared at the sigil of Aegon Martell Targaryen as she replayed their conversation from the _Chamber of the Painted Table_ at Dragonstone.

"_The dragon must have three heads," Selwyn announced quietly._

"_King Jaehaerys, your grandfather, your Grace," Selwyn nodded to Daenerys, "believed in the prophecies of the prince who was promised. He even commanded your mother, Queen Rhaella, and father, King Aerys to marry. A woods witch had foretold that the prince who was promised would be born of their line."_

"_Prince Rhaegar was brought up to believe in the prophecy," Selwyn went on. "He thought he was the prince who was promised. He believed he was destined to have three children. Those three children would have the blood of the dragon and thus allow dragons to be reborn."_

"_Then Prince Aegon was born. He, like my Brienne, was born on the night of the red comet. That's when Rhaegar became fixated on the idea of producing three children to be the three heads of the dragon."_

Only two children of Queen Rhaella's line remained. Her son, Viserys, and her granddaughter, Rhaenys, were both dead. That left only Griff and Daenerys as the heirs of the queen's blood. The dragon must have three heads but only one purpose. They needed to be unified in their intent and their actions. But Daenerys was at Harrenhall with Jon Snow, waiting for the Unsullied to arrive. Then she would take her armies to the Wall to reopen the empty Night's Watch castles. Meanwhile, Griff was here in King's Landing, trying to restore House Targaryen while simultaneously building support for his own kingship.

Both Griff and Daenerys believed they were the rightful ruler of the Seven Kingdoms. They both had armies, dragons and good intentions but their goals put them at odds. Westeros had endured war after war, selfish ruler after selfish ruler and had suffered for it. Now a threat greater than even armies, dragons and selfish rulers threatened to destroy them. The Army of the Dead didn't differentiate between Lannister, Stark or Targaryen. It didn't even separate between human or dragon. It would overpower every living creature to add to its forces.

Griff and Daenerys had never met. They knew of each other but hadn't seen each other. They'd never had the chance to see how similar their features and mannerisms were; how alike their silver-blond hair, indigo eyes and fine, symmetrical features were; how they both had the same mobile eyebrows that could so easily express their thoughts or how their deep compassion allowed them to champion those who needed the most and were given the least.

_The dragon must have three heads._

How could the dragon have three heads when it had two separate, opposing hearts?


	50. Flame Keeper

The Keeper

Chapter 50 – Flame Keeper

"The dragon must have three heads," Brienne said.

Podrick looked away from Serdun, who had just made its slow but controlled landing at the water's edge. Her squire's eyebrows furrowed as he stared at her. Ardayn and Gallan, calm under his hands, also turned to her.

"Rhaegar's belief?" he asked. "What made you think of that?"

Brienne nodded to Griff's new sigil. "King Aegon combined the symbols of the house of the sun with the house of the dragon. They're both equal on his standard."

"That's because King Aegon is both the son of the sun and the blood of the dragon," Podrick pointed out. "He represents both equally so it follows his sigil will represent them equally."

She shook her head. "But the future of humanity doesn't rest solely on him. It's the army of men who will stand against the Army of the Dead. The three heads of the dragon, fighting as one, will defeat the Night King."

Serdun squawked and leapt closer to them. Gallan and Ardayn shifted aside to make room as the injured dragon's powerful leap brought it to stand beside them. Brienne and Podrick watched as Ardayn and Gallan squawked back to Serdun. The dragons shared a conversation they couldn't understand before the three settled onto the outcrop revealed by the outgoing tide. They spread out their wings to soak in the sunshine.

"Look at the dragons," Brienne urged. "Do you see how they interact? Gallan and Ardayn know where Serdun is, keep it between them to compensate for its injury, communicate constantly and even now, are guarding Serdun as much as they're guarding us."

Podrick looked at the three, noting how the dragons faced outward. Gallan and Ardayn faced the castle, the most likely point of attack. Serdun faced the water, where an attack was less likely given that three _Golden Fleet_ ships blocked the Blackwater Bay. The dragons were alert but relaxed, enjoying the sun while protecting their family.

"That's how House Targaryen must be," Brienne insisted. "The dragons always look out for each other and for us. Even Drogon and Rhaegal came when the five needed them. The dragons work as a team. The human members of House Targaryen must also do the same."

"How is that possible if Daenerys continues to march north with Jon Snow and King Aegon remains in the capitol?" Podrick questioned.

"It isn't," Brienne answered. "Both Targaryens want the same goal, to defeat the Night King and rule Westeros. They each have their own plans and strategies. I don't think that's what the Gods want. I believe House Targaryen must work together to defeat the Night King, to have three heads but only one body."

Podrick became thoughtful. "There are currently only two Targaryens. Perhaps they could marry to become a single body but there is no third head."

_Marry_.

Brienne's heart began to beat faster. The sudden rush of heat clogged her throat and made sweat break out along her back. Podrick's suggestion was reasonable. It was customary, in previous generations of Targaryens, to marry within their bloodline, to wed brother to sister or uncle to niece, to keep their line pure. Such unions were forbidden by the Faith but the Targaryens had continued the practice. The only reason Rhaegar had married Elia was because he had no female relatives to marry.

Could Griff and Daenerys marry and rule Westeros together? They would be able to share the joys and pains of ruling by combining their ambitions and goals. They were both intelligent, strong and kind, able to understand the advantages of such a union. For every miserable marriage such as Aerys and Rhaella, there were happy, successful unions as Aegon the First had enjoyed with Rhaenys. Then she remembered what Griff had said to her the night before she returned to Westeros.

"_Bloodlines can be too pure, Brienne," Griff insisted. "They say every time a Targaryen is born; the Gods toss a coin and the world holds its breath. We have been spared that madness. The only way to avoid such weakness is to draw in other bloodlines." _

She drew a deep breath and the tightness in her throat eased. "The king doesn't agree with that philosophy. He said pure bloodlines breed madness. I don't think he needs to marry Daenerys to form the heads of the dragon."

Podrick took a moment to consider that. "Rhaegar believed he would father the three heads of the dragon. He thought they would be the second coming of the original Targaryen king and his queens. He even named his children after those rulers."

"Yes, Rhaenys and Aegon," Brienne agreed. "He was expecting to father a third child, probably a daughter. But he died at the Trident and Princess Rhaenys died during the sacking of King's Landing."

"If Rhaegar had lived and defeated Robert at the Trident, then Princess Rhaenys would have lived, too," Podrick pointed out. "Then, after Daenerys was born, Rhaegar would have had his three-headed dragon with his daughter, his son and his sister."

Brienne considered it. "No, that wouldn't have followed the Gods' plan. King Aegon wouldn't have known to become the _Sword of the Morning_ unless he had to prove he was the son of the sun. If Rhaegar had lived, King Aegon wouldn't have _Dawn_ to take into battle. Nor would Daenerys have birthed the dragons that allowed her to become the Mother of Dragons, Queen of Meereen and Khaleesi of the Great Grass Sea."

Podrick was quiet for a long time, so long that Brienne looked at him. He was staring out into the bay but his eyes had the unfocused look of one who was lost in their own thoughts. She allowed him his thoughts and looked back at the sigil of Aegon Martell Targaryen.

_The dragon must have three heads._

Podrick looked around, as if to assure himself no one was close enough to overhear them. The dragons also looked around, reminding them that they were on duty. No one could approach them without alerting their fierce, fire-breathing guards.

"My Lady Ser." Podrick spoke slowly, his voice hesitant, as if he was afraid of offending her with his words. "Have you considered _you_ are the third head of the dragon?"

Brienne stared at him, so shocked, it took her a moment to find breath to deny the idea. How could she, a plain, too-tall, too-broad, too-masculine secret Targaryen be an heir to the House of the Dragon? She hadn't gotten their famed beauty and grace, had no clear ties to their bloodline and had no desire to rule. If it weren't for the young dragons that had blessed her life, she would never have believed she had even a single drop of the blood of the dragon.

"I'm not a descendant of Queen Rhaella's line," she reminded him. "The woods witch foretold it. That's why Aerys and Rhaella were forced to marry by their father."

"No, the witch foretold the prince who was promised would be of their line," Podrick corrected. "She didn't say _all_ three heads of the dragon had to be from their line. Rhaegar believed it to be true, but why?"

Brienne gasped as she remembered her father speaking at the _Chamber of the Painted Table_.

"_Prince Rhaegar was brought up to believe in the prophecy," Selwyn went on. "He thought he was the prince who was promised. He believed he was destined have three children. Those three children would have the blood of the dragon and thus allow dragons to be reborn."_

"_You knew my brother?" Daenerys demanded._

"_I knew him as my prince, your Grace. He knew me because I was a friend of Jon Connington. Jon was one of the prince's closest friends and the finest man I ever knew." Selwyn frowned, his gaze far-away as his thoughts returned to the past. "Jon confided in me he was worried about the Prince. He said Rhaegar had come back to the city after a trip to Dragonstone, very disturbed. The Prince took to his rooms and immersed himself in studying scrolls. After a few days, he announced he'd become a knight."_

"_I've been told my brother was already a great warrior," Daenerys frowned._

"_He was, your Grace," Selwyn agreed. "A knight is the next level of warrior. He devoted himself to becoming a knight after that trip and what he found in those scrolls. Then Prince Aegon was born. He, like my Brienne, was born on the night of the red comet. That's when Rhaegar became fixated on the idea of producing three children to be the three heads of the dragon."_

"Remember what my father said about Rhaegar when we were on Dragonstone?" Brienne spoke quickly, eager to share her thoughts. "He said Rhaegar had come back to King's Landing after a visit to Dragonstone, very disturbed."

Podrick nodded. "Yes, Lord Selwyn said Rhaegar immersed himself in study when he returned then announced he'd become a knight."

"Correct," Brienne agreed. "Father said Rhaegar became a knight after that trip to Dragonstone and what he learned from the scrolls he studied. That's when he started to believe he would be father to the three heads of the dragon."

"But how do we know which scrolls he studied? Most of his personal belongings were destroyed in the sacking of King's Landing or when Robert took over the Red Keep," Podrick reminded her.

Excitement rushed through her, so quick and strong, it alerted the dragons. They all sat up and looked around, sniffing the air to find the source of her suddenly spiking emotions. Finding none, the dragons shifted closer to them, calm but alert.

"Scrolls are only written records of events, Podrick, not the events themselves," Brienne insisted. "We might be able to learn that information from a different source. Who do we know who has studied history, reads in multiple languages, keeps detailed notes of everything he learns and was raised by one of Rhaegar's closest friends?"

"King Aegon, of course," Podrick replied promptly. "If the king knows what Rhaegar knew then why hasn't he told us?"

Brienne's eyes sparkled as she warmed to her idea. "Because he doesn't know what he knows."

Podrick stared at her. "I don't understand."

"It's possible the king has the information but doesn't understand its value," Brienne explained. "The saltwater priest told us my destiny was foretold in the stars before I was born. We had the information but we didn't know what it meant at the time. It wasn't until I saw _Bright Star_, _Lightning_ and _Starfall_ together that I understood the importance of what we already knew."

Podrick's eyes brightened as he considered. Along with being loyal, honorable and steady, he was also intelligent and trustworthy. Talking out her thoughts and frustrations with him allowed her to examine her ideas, judge their value and understand their significance. He was carefully considering her explanation, probing it for weaknesses and faults. As she watched expectantly, the light in his eyes dimmed as he frowned.

"How can we help the king understand the value of information he already has?" Podrick asked. "Simply telling him he knows important information isn't enough. He would have told you if he already knew how to form the three-headed dragon. We don't know what Rhaegar knew. We don't know what triggered him to begin his research."

Brienne smiled. "No, but we do know _where_ it was triggered. Perhaps the king, who is already well-learned, will understand what Rhaegar did. The wealth on Dragonstone was plundered by the Baratheons and their supporters. The physical structures, however, are still intact from before Robert became king."

"True," Podrick agreed. "We saw the carvings on the walls, the enormous table of Westeros, the cave drawings, the mounds of dragonglass and the stone dragons on the parapets. Do you think any of those triggered Rhaegar?"

Brienne shook her head. "I don't know. King Aegon came from Dorne, where he presented his claim as Princess Elia's son. Then he came to King's Landing to distract attention from what his men were doing in his name and to take control of the capitol. I don't think he's even been to Dragonstone."

"Perhaps he doesn't need to go," Podrick suggested. "I drew pictures of the cave drawings, the wall carvings and even some of the fearsome stone dragons. You said I was a good artist and my Dragonstone drawings were almost perfect replicas."

He blushed as he said it. Brienne smiled, remembering that day she'd complimented him in the council chambers soon after Daenerys had claimed King's Landing. His blush was almost as bright as it had been then. Podrick was as unused to compliments as she was. He was also learning to accept them gracefully. The dragons, picking up in Podrick's spiking emotions, looked around curiously, unsure of what had caused it.

"That's an excellent idea, Pod," she agreed warmly. "Maybe he'll see something in the drawings that will trigger a memory. We might learn what Rhaegar knew and how he planned to use the three heads of the dragon. Merely having three children, or two children and his sister, wasn't enough to form the three heads of the dragon."

"The three heads of the dragon," Podrick repeated, his blush fading as his expression became thoughtful again. "Why not Visenya?"

Brienne frowned at him. "What do you mean?"

Podrick spoke slowly, as if considering his thoughts as he explained them. "We agree Rhaegar expected to be the father of the three heads of the dragon. He named his son Aegon and his first daughter Rhaenys. If he planned to create the second coming of the original Targaryen rulers, why didn't he name his daughter Visenya? She was the elder sister, born before her brother."

Brienne considered that. "That would have made sense. Visenya, the first born, was a fierce fighter who was trained alongside her brother. Unlike most Westerosi lords, her father raised her to be a warrior."

Podrick considered that. "A warrior queen, like Queen Nymeria?"

"Visenya was a greater warrior than Nymeria," Brienne explained. "Queen Nymeria led her forces into battle but didn't fight alongside them. Queen Visenya not only cut down assassins attempting to murder King Aegon, she even created and selected the first Kingsguard to surround him with fighters as elite as she was."

"The Targaryen's were from Valyria," Podrick reminded her. "Like the Dornish, they expect women to be powerful. Clearly, Visenya's father wanted her to continue that tradition. Rhaegar expected his daughter to be a great warrior and queen. Elia, being from Dorne, would also have wanted her daughter to be a warrior, like the first Targaryen queen. If so, why did Rhaegar name their daughter after the younger Targaryen sister? The first Rhaenys was a dragonrider but not skilled in combat, as Visenya was."

Brienne shook her head. "Perhaps it was Elia's choice? From what I've heard, she and Rhaegar were close friends, even if their marriage wasn't a great passion. She may have wanted to name her daughter after her husband. If her health and the Gods had allowed it, she might have named their third child Visenya."

Podrick was about to reply when the dragons hissed and puffed. Brienne and Podrick both put their hands on the sword hilts as they turned to face the threat. It was a young servant, shaking visibly as he looked down from the top of the wall. He bowed but was so frightened that he nearly toppled over. As he regained his balance and his wits, Brienne and Podrick hurried to calm Ardayn and Gallan. Serdun, who had clearly had enough of being held, stretched out its wings and squawked. The green dragon remained at its position, alert and ready, but calm.

"Yes?" Brienne called up.

The servant bowed again. "Ser, my Lady, his Grace, King Aegon, the sixth Prince of Dorne, the _Morningsword_, the –"

"Does his Grace have a message for me?" Brienne called up.

She didn't want to interrupt the poor boy but he was clearly terrified and tongue-tied. He became more so as he fumbled through Griff's titles. The servant flushed as he nodded vigorously. He cleared his throat and took a deep breath.

"The king requires your presence in the Throne Room, my Lady Ser." The boy spoke in a flat, hurried tone that revealed he's memorized his lines. "You and your squire are to attend him im-im-im…at once."

The boy flushed even more and stumbled back until they could barely see him pressed against the wall. Brienne and Podrick exchanged glances. Griff had ordered Varys to assemble the lords in the great hall. The gathering must be starting soon.

"Thank you," Brienne called up. "You are dismissed."

The boy bowed and broke out in a run as he hurried along the wall. The people gathered near the wall and leaning out of windows also hurried away as Brienne and Podrick mounted the steps. Serdun made a great leap that took it to the top step while Gallan and Ardayn stayed with them.

"Are your feet well, my Lady Ser?" Podrick asked anxiously. "Moqorro hasn't brought the fresh cloth yet."

"He was probably called to attend the meeting," Brienne guessed. "My feet are fine, Podrick."

"I'll change the bindings after the assembly," Podrick promised. "They've probably gotten wet."

Her feet did ache but she ignored the pain. Serdun was healing far faster than she was, easily spreading its injured wing and gliding in the afternoon breeze. The dragon had the advantage of being born of magic while she healed at a slower pace. Ardayn and Gallan, who had greater wing control, stayed over their heads as they hurried through the connecting halls to the Throne Room.

The first thing Brienne saw when they entered the great hall was the enormous, sparkling seven-pointed star stained-glass window above the remains of the Iron Throne. Then she noticed the lump of throne itself was significantly shorter. The blacksmiths had started to dismantle it and take the metal to use in new weapons.

Griff, Tyrion and Ned were in conversation near the dais which also had been partially cleaned of the melted iron. Brienne and Podrick reached them just as Tanda entered from the main doors. Castle guards stood in the doorways, hands behind their backs, as they watched the dragons fly around the room. Griff stopped speaking when he saw Serdun glide across the hall. Tyrion and Ned also turned to see what had caught his attention. They all smiled at seeing Serdun recovering so quickly.

The green dragon wobbled a bit on the landing. It didn't have a breeze as it did outside to help moderate its descent. Still, it displayed considerable control given its still healing wing. Griff knelt to embrace the green dragon. Serdun tolerated being held for a few seconds then shrugged to free itself. Griff laughed as he allowed Serdun its freedom.

"Sȳrī gaomagon, Serdun," he praised.

Serdun turned to Tyrion and squawked. It extended its wings to their full length, almost showing off to its friend. The other dragons also came down to join them.

"You're looking well, Serdun." Tyrion smiled warmly. "It's good to see you flying again. Err, sōvegon sȳrī."

The dragons all squawked at Tyrion's unfamiliar phrase. People hovering around the seven open doors leading into the Throne Room gasped at hearing the dragons. Some even pushed back and tried to hide behind the guards and each other.

"Sōvegon sȳrī? Brienne repeated.

"My High Valyrian is rusty," Tyrion explained. "I think I said 'good flying', didn't I?"

"The actual translation is 'fly well' but the idea is correct," Griff agreed.

Ned looked from Tyrion to the dragons then back at Tyrion. "Lord Tyrion, how did you cultivate such a good relationship with the dragons? All five of them demand praise from you and Serdun even called to you when it was brought in after being injured."

Tyrion took a moment to seriously consider the question as Tanda and Moqorro came to join them. Tanda had crossed the length of the hall while Moqorro slipped in from a side entrance. Brienne looked at the lords and ladies who hadn't assembled yet. She saw them outside the doors but no one seemed to want to be the first to enter.

"I think it's because I've always had respect for Lady Ser Brienne, even before they were born," Tyrion guessed. "Plus, I was Podrick's lord before he went into Lady Ser Brienne's service. The dragons understand I care about two people they love deeply."

Jaime, Bronn and Balon appeared at a side door. The crowd shifted aside to let them enter the room but remained outside, away from the dragons. Balon took a moment to smile and engage an elderly lord. The man entered with Balon, which prodded several others to muster the courage to follow him. A few people filtered in from the far doors but stayed in a tight group, well out of the dragons' fire range.

Podrick looked at them curiously. "Why are they so frightened? They know the dragons are well behaved and won't attack them."

Griff also surveyed the slowly assembling crowd, his mouth set in a grim line. "That's what they thought about the Westerlands army, too, until today. The attacks remind the people of Joffrey and Cersei's senseless cruelty. Now they think my assurances were lies and fear they aren't safe under the dragons."

Jaime, who had just joined them, looked grim. "Those men will never attack anyone again. I took care of the problem."

"No, you took care of attackers," Griff corrected. "I must deal with the problem." He turned to Balon. "Ser Balon, were you able to get the items I requested?"

Balon nodded soberly. "Yes, your Grace. The smith will send over his assistant momentarily."

Griff nodded. "Good."

There was a small commotion as Serjeant, Salladhor and a large group of _Golden Company_ officers entered the Throne Room from the main doors. They lined up in neat rows in front of the dais. The lords and ladies looked at the men with open anxiety but also ventured into the room after them. Having three rows of men between them and the dragons gave the people some reassurance. The men were dangerous but the dragons were deadly. The Company men gave them the illusion of protection from the dragons.

Griff mounted the steps to face the assembly. The dragons, accustomed to the _Golden Company_ men, choose to perch on the remains of the Iron Throne, raising them higher than even the King of the Seven Kingdoms. Brienne stood at the edge of the dais, at Griff's left side, with Podrick at her left. Jaime, Tyrion, Ned, Bronn, Balon, Tanda and Moqorro lined up facing Griff, just ahead of the Company men.

"My lords and ladies, you have no doubt heard about the attacks that took place on the tourney grounds." Griff spoke in a calm, measured tone. "The children who were attacked are in the care of the maester. The attack was isolated and will not occur again."

"It shouldn't have occurred at all." The elderly man Balon had been with spoke. His voice was thin with age but still clear. "What value is there in having Lannister soldiers here to protect us from the dead if we must be protected from the Lannister men?"

Griff nodded gravely. "Your concerns are valid, Lord Buckley. I won't tolerate such behavior. The men who attacked our defenseless citizens are dead."

He stopped speaking as a soft murmur went through the crowd. The people spoke amongst themselves, suspicion and uncertainty visible in their dull eyes and hunched shoulders. Brienne understood. Words were just wind, promises easily spoken and easily broken. The brutal reigns they'd endured had taught the people that kings, queens and their agents were not to be trusted. The goodwill Griff has begun to build threatened to crumble before it had a chance to solidify.

Brienne glanced back at her king. Griff has also come to the same conclusion. His mouth was set and indigo eyes darkened almost to black. He held himself tall and straight, the sunlight gilding his extraordinary silver-haired, golden-skinned Targaryen beauty in a glow that almost burned her eyes.

"Only a few days ago, I promised you and your families would be safe under the protection of House Targaryen." Griff raised his voice to regain attention. "Shortly after that, we fought our first battle against the Army of the Dead. We won."

He paused again, watching as some of the tension eased out of the crowd. The whispers quieted as Griff continued speaking, his beauty, his booming voice and his dragons commanding their attention.

"I know winning great battles is of no value if we cannot protect our innocent from attacks by our own. I won't allow such crimes to go unpunished. Any man who violates the rules of society will find his head mounted on a spike."

Brienne saw some of the assembled crowd nod in approval. Their physical postures loosened and their gazes began to focus on Griff instead of the dragons. They were revealed, hopeful their king would dispense even-handed justice and now willing to hear what Griff had to say. Some even leaned forward, as if trying to hear better. Griff, standing tall and straight, kept his voice strong and steady.

"The men who attacked the children were a small group inside the greater army. An army that has already fought to protect you and your families. The men who didn't support our efforts and viewed our children as sport have paid the price. The children are safe because of the efforts of honorable men also within the Westerlands forces."

The assembly broke into a steady mummer of conversation again. Brienne saw Jaime's startled shock at Griff's words. He probably expected Griff would lay the full blame on Jaime and his men. Brienne suppressed the desire to turn to her king and smile proudly at his actions. Jaime didn't know Griff the way she did. He didn't understand how fair the rightful King of Westeros truly was.

_A king who would serve his people, not rule them._

"Upon hearing the screams, several Westerlands archers fired into the frenzy, even knowing the men they shot wore Lannister uniforms. They knew their duty was to protect the citizens from all threats, including their fellow soldiers. It requires training, focus and strength to fight the enemy a man chooses to attack. It takes honor to defend the innocent from one's own brother."

Griff paused and Brienne surveyed the crowd again. The people were now looking at each other instead of focusing on the dragons. She saw even the guards and servants hovering near the doors listening attentively. Even more of the tension drained out of the hall. A man came to stand near the guards. Balon and Ned slipped away from the gathering to meet the man. As Brienne watched, the man gave a heavy sack to the knight. Balon hefted the bag as Ned looked inside and nodded to Griff.

Griff continued speaking, ignoring Balon and Ned's actions. "Men who protect the innocent and stand up to those whose behavior is against our principles should be recognized. Those archers are in the back of the hall. Lord Commander, step forward to acknowledge them."

The crowd parted as a small group of Lannister archers marched the length of the hall. The men faced straight ahead but their eyes darted from side to side. Their attention was divided between staring at the lords and ladies around them and the dragons before them. Their uniforms were sweat stained and the men were disheveled, their hair damp, their helmets held under their arms.

Jaime blinked in confusion then stepped up to the foot of the dais. Balon came to his side with the sack and Ned withdrew an ebony-black arrow, as dark as midnight. The archers stopped when they were even with the _Golden Company_ lines. They looked at the dragons, awe and fear in their eyes. They'd seen the dragons in action and knew how dangerous they were.

Jaime, Balon and Ned went to the men when it became clear they wouldn't come any closer to the dragons. Ned handed the arrow to Jaime who gave it to the archer closest to him. He spoke to the man in a low voice that didn't carry. The man bowed and accepted the dragonglass arrow. He moved to the next archer and was give him a solid dragonglass arrow. Once all the archers had arrows, they bowed to Griff.

"Your dragonglass arrows are too heavy to shoot but they're not too heavy to carry," Griff noted. "Keep them with you as a token of the people's gratitude. The citizens of King's Landing thank you for your courage and your service."

Someone in the crowd began to clap. Then another and another until everyone was clapping. The men flushed, looking dazed and uncertain. Jaime's expression was more composed than theirs but he also didn't understand what Griff had done. Brienne looked at her king, marveling at his ability to manipulate people and circumstances.

While the archers were confused there was no denying they were also pleased by the unexpected recognition. Brienne was sure they had acted out of instinct and self-preservation when they'd shot the men attacking the children, not out of honor or duty. Whether they deserved it or not, the archers were honored, bringing unexpected glory upon themselves and their houses. The solid dragonglass arrows, presented by the Lord Commander, in the presence of the king, were a sign of prestige. The arrows elevated these men, increased their self-worth and linked their feelings of success to House Targaryen.

Once the clapping ended, Griff nodded to Jaime. Jaime returned to his place beside Tyrion as the archers marched to the back of the hall. Ned reached into the sack and pulled out a sword belt. Brienne stared at the familiar leather pattern as he carried the belt to Griff. Pleasure warmed her entire body as she recognized it. The dragons, picking up on her joy, squawked in response. The crowd gasped and looked up at the five. Brienne also turned but to smile approvingly at her king. Griff's mouth curved slightly and he gave her a quick, sly wink.

"There are others who must be recognized for their honor, service and loyalty," Griff continued. "There is one among us who has fought alongside dragons, alongside knights, lords and some of the greatest fighters in the known world. One who didn't fight for gold, a lord or even his king. One who fought only for honor and out of loyalty to his lady. Podrick, come before me."

Brienne was grateful she'd had a moment to prepare herself to hear her squire honored before the people of King's Landing. Even so, her body flushed with heat and emotions clogged her throat, threatening to leak out of her eyes. Podrick blinked rapidly and turned to look at Griff. He was frozen in shock, his skin flushed deeply red and his face stripped of all emotion. Brienne gave him a gentle push and Podrick stumbled to kneel in front of Griff.

"Podrick, as squire to Lady Ser Brienne, you have fought at her side, guarded her back and acted swiftly to protect the dragons when they were threatened. I cannot give you Valyrian steel, _yet_," Griff stressed the delay, "but I thank you for your efforts, dedication and for your quick actions to protect those dearest to me."

Ned held up the sword belt and handed it to Griff. Podrick's previous leather jerkin, which he'd sacrificed to carry _Ice_ and _Bright Star_ across the burnt tourney field, had been fashioned into a belt with both a sword and a dagger sheath. The metal-studded dark red leather squares were now interspersed with cords of Tarth blue. Griff held the belt by the sword sheath to show off a sword hilt and a dagger hilt of intertwined dark red and blue cords. He tilted the sheath towards Podrick.

Podrick's hands shook as much as Brienne's had when she'd taken her commission parchment. He carefully took the sword by the hilt and pulled it from the sheath. The sword was long, slim and as black as the darkest night.

"Dragonglass," Podrick exclaimed. He pulled out the matching dagger. "Th…th…thank you, your Grace."

"Use them well, Pod," Griff ordered, but his voice was gentle. "The last few days have shown us that the enemy can rise at any time. We must always remain vigilant to guard those we love."

Podrick looked back at Brienne then up at the dragons. The five puffed and extended their wings, making themselves look bigger. They screeched, picking up on Podrick's surprised pleasure and gratitude. Brienne looked from the five to Podrick, recalling her words when she thought she was with him for the last time.

"_We're more than blood, Podrick, we're bonded," Brienne corrected. "You're as much mine as are the dragons. You're as precious to me as they are. The dragons, my father and King Aegon will need your support. I'm not worried about them because I know you'll take care of them as you've cared for me." Fresh tears streamed down her cheeks but she didn't bother to check them. "I was so blessed to have you in my life, Podrick."_

Podrick sheathed the sword and dagger and took the belt from Griff. His hands trembled as he tried to fasten the belt around his waist. He was so unsteady that the belt almost slipped from his grip.

"Oye, does the squire need his own squire?" Bronn asked. "Do you want me to show you how to tie a bow?"

As expected, Tyrion, Jaime and Griff glared at Bronn. Fortunately, his voice hadn't carried to the assembly. Podrick was able to fasten the belt on his third try. He straightened and turned to show off the new belt and weapons to Brienne and the audience. Once again, the crowd began to clap. Brienne joined the applause and blinked hard to hold her emotions in check. Podrick, still dazed, stumbled back to her side, as puffed and proud as the dragons above them.

"Many have fought to protect us." Griff raised his voice to regain everyone's attention. "Men who guard the walls and gates, men who patrol the streets and men who surround the graveyards to ensure the dead will not attack us again. Each deserves our thanks and our praise. However, we cannot wait for the Army of the Dead to attack us again. We must be proactive and protect all of Westeros. Therefore, the Westerlands armies will leave the capitol at daybreak. They will join the other forces assembling to guard against the dead who walk. The _Golden Company_ will take over the protection of the city."

"How can we be assured these men are better than the men who attacked earlier today?" Lord Hayford asked from the crowd.

"These are my men, Lord Hayford. Men I know personally because I've lived with them, trained with them and fought with them. I wouldn't be standing before you today without these men. I put my life in their hands. Even more, I trusted them to protect those who are most precious to me." Griff looked back at the dragons. "My family. The dragons wouldn't have had a chance to grow, to learn or to be with us today without these men."

The _Golden Company_ officers stood tall and proud, their distinctive golden tunics glowing in the sunlight. Brienne didn't attempt to hide her smile. Though she was a member of the Company, she'd also relied on these men. They had protected her and the dragons when she'd needed them. Even more, they'd held the shroud of secrecy that had been the dragons' greatest defense. Any of these men could have sold out the dragons for enough gold to fill the Iron Bank. Even with that temptation, they'd stayed loyal and united, and followed their true king back to Westeros.

"Without the dragons, we might not have won our first battle against the Army of the Dead," Griff reminded them. "These five were our first line of defense while the army organized. The bigger dragons shortened our battle time from days to mere hours. King's Landing might have fallen without them on our side."

The whispers began again. The people looked at the dragons with less fear and more acceptance. Their natural fear of dragons wouldn't end. Many had seen the dragons in action and knew how deadly they were. But they were also remembering the dragons were well-trained, intelligent and capable of great love and loyalty.

Griff smiled back at the five then looked at Brienne. His expression became serious, without the sly, playful asides he'd often directed at her. Griff nodded to Serjeant. Brienne watched Serjeant walk to the dais. He removed his sword from his belt, which he'd hidden under his tunic, and passed it to Griff. Gold flashed from the sword's pommel and the cross-guard. She recognized the simple swirl design on the grip, the flame at the pommel and gold flame licks jutting from the hilt. It was _Firestorm_, Griff's Valyrian steel sword.

Excitement made her heart beat faster as she recalled her dream of holding five swords in her arms_. Ice, Firestorm, Bright Star, Lightning_, and _Dawn_. She'd told Griff the swords were all important and needed to be carried into the Great War. Griff was the _Sword of the Morning_ and carried _Dawn_. Did he intend to carry _Firestorm_, too?

Griff held the sword behind his back, so that _Firestorm_ was partially hidden. He surveyed his audience then looked at Brienne again. His expression was calm but serious, even hesitant. Something flickered in the depths of his indigo eyes, so fast Brienne didn't have a chance to decipher it. Then the moment passed and he faced the crowd again. Brienne tried to match his cool, composed expression as she also turned back to the assembled audience.

"While the dragons helped save the capitol, they didn't do so alone." The assembly quieted as Griff continued. "They were led by one of the greatest knights in the Seven Kingdoms. This knight, upon learning the Army of the Dead was approaching, ran to the tourney field to bring the army inside the gates. While the army mounted their defense, this knight stayed outside the walls and fought for us all."

Almost as one, everyone turned to stare at Brienne. She blushed bright red under their regard but kept her position. Beside her, Podrick looked at her with pride shining in his dark eyes. Behind her, the dragon cried out, picking up on her spiking emotions. Before her, Jaime, Tyrion, Bronn, Ned, Balon, Tanda and the _Golden Company_ officers smiled in encouragement. Moqorro and Varys, who'd slipped quietly into the room, both stood with nearly identical positions. Their hands were pressed together, their bodies leaning forward and serious eyes steady. It was almost as if they were trying to project their serenity to her.

"A person who picks up a sword or an arrow to fight for his lord is a warrior," Griff continued. "One who takes up a weapon to defend the innocent is a knight. The person who leads others into battle is a commander. Then there is the person who sends others to safety and runs forward into danger to protect everyone; warriors, knights, commanders and innocents alike. That person is a hero."

Clapping began and flowed in and around the Throne Room. Brienne took deep breaths to try to keep herself calm. The dragons, sensing her rising anxiety, flew from their perches to land in a straight line before her, between her and the rows of Company officers. Even Serdun, whose landing was clumsy in contrast to the others, puffed and squawked in her defense. Their cries caused the audience to stop clapping and gasp, for which Brienne was grateful.

"A great hero should carry a great sword." Griff brought _Firestorm_ out from behind his back. "Brienne, come before me."

Brienne's heart pounded as she realized Griff intended to give _Firestorm_ to her. _Oathkeeper_ had been re-forged into _Ice_. Ser Duncan's sword, _Bright Star_, was a precious remembrance of the greatest knight in her lineage. It was also one of the five swords in her dream, important but not able to stop Wights. The dragons would protect her but having a sword of her own, capable of destroying the dead, would help the army of men.

She was about to turn to Griff when she saw Tyrion shudder visibly. The dwarf was shaking his head, his face white as he stared at Griff. He tugged on Jaime's arm. Jaime looked at his brother, frowned, then looked at Griff. Jaime's mouth fell open and his face went almost as pale as his brother's had.

"I don't believe it," Lord Hayford cried.

A gasp passed through the crowd. Most of the older lords and many of the older ladies were wide-eyed and some even open-mouthed as they stared at Griff in dumbfounded shock. Brienne pressed her lips together and turned to face her king. She knelt at the bottom step of the dais. Much of her excitement faded at seeing the older people, and even Tyrion and Jaime, so shocked her king would give her such an honor. Jaime's stunned expression hurt the most, a betrayal of the confidence he'd previously shown in her. He'd given her his Valyrian steel sword and even refused to take it back when she'd offered to return it. Now he was as shocked as the others that she was about to receive _Firestorm_.

Griff smiled at her and, suddenly, their disapproval no longer mattered. Her king believed in her. Griff had seen her potential from the first moment they'd met on that dirty dock in Braavos. He'd given her a chance, loyal companions, a sense of belonging and protection. He'd asked nothing in return, allowing her to keep her secrets and accepting her as she was, even before she'd brought him the dragons. She had a place in the world King Aegon the Sixth was building. He'd taken her as his sworn sword and freely gave her honor and praise. _She belonged_. Nothing else mattered.

Griff raised _Firestorm_ so everyone could see it. Brienne saw the sword was different. Previously, the oval centerpiece had been empty. Now the centerpiece was filled with a brilliant red ruby, the size of a duck egg, surrounded by smaller rubies. The sunlight pouring in from the seven-pointed star glowed through the rubies and cast her in a bright red light.

Furious whispers ran through the assembled crowd. Brienne continued to look at her king, trying to ignore the reaction from the assembly. Valyrian steel was rare and precious but it shouldn't evoke this kind of disbelieving reaction. Jaime, Ned, Bronn and Balon all had their Valyrian steel swords hanging from their belts. Why was everyone so upset that she was getting this honor? Griff passed the sword to her. She took it carefully by the hilt, allowing the light to bounce off the distinctive ripples on the blade and cast sparkles along the hall.

"Lady Ser Brienne, knight of the Seven Kingdoms, keeper of the dragons, warrior of the Gods and _Lightbringer_." Griff raised his voice, ensuring he was heard throughout the Throne Room and into the hallways. "I present to you _Dark Sister_, the sword of Visenya Targaryen."

Brienne's whole body shuddered with her shock as the mummers broke into outright cries. She stared at the sword, thunderstruck. Griff had _Dark Sister_, the sword of the first Targaryen Queen of Westeros. All those months, it had been in front of her and she hadn't recognized it. As he'd done to himself, Griff had altered the weapon's appearance and changed its name to hide its real identity. _Dark Sister_ had been thought lost during the Blackfyre Rebellion, while in the custody of Brynden Rivers, one of the bastard sons of Aegon the Fourth. How had Griff gotten it? Why would he give her such a precious heirloom, a symbol of House Targaryen?

"Your shadow!" Moqorro gasped.

Brienne looked back at the Red Priest. His facial tattoos were so red she wouldn't be surprised if they started to bleed. His eyes were wide and his hand trembled as he pointed. Brienne looked down to where he indicated. Her shadow, cast by the sunshine pouring in from the seven-pointed star stained-glass window, fell beside her. The heat from the summer sun shimmered in waves, making the shadow look as if it was almost moving. The center ruby cast a blood-red glow on the shadow of her hand. She gasped.

In the light of the sun, the halo of the Faith, the glow of House Targaryen and the afterglow of history, Brienne's shadow knelt with flames in her hand.

**Author's Notes:** Who recognized _Dark Sister_ before this chapter? As with everything else, the sword's story is an important clue to the battle against the Army of the Dead.

My current beta reader, the wonderful Comet69, has been having computer issues and isn't able to read for me as much. Is anyone interested in being a beta reader for this story? Please leave me a comment and we'll connect.


	51. Sister Keeper

The Keeper

Chapter 51 – Sister Keeper

"Th…thank you, your Grace." Brienne could barely manage the words, her mind still reeling from the shock of receiving Queen Visenya's sword.

"You've earned it, Brienne," Griff assured. "You showed great courage and selflessness in protecting the capitol and the people. Your instinctive response saved us all."

Brienne rose from her kneeling position before her king. _Firestorm_, no _Dark Sister_, reflected light throughout the Throne Room in her shaking hands. Podrick smiled encouragingly at her, supportive and loyal as always. She returned to her place beside him, her heart pounding so hard she couldn't hear words. _Bright Star_ was in her sword sheath so she held her new sword in both hands, blade pointed downwards, the tip touching the marble floor. The distinctive Valyrian steel was unmistakable, as were the flame licks and flame jutting out of the pommel. She'd seen the sword for three months, from the first day she'd fought against Griff. How could she have failed to recognize one of the most famous swords in Westerosi history?

She raised her head to face the people. The king's council, along with Jaime, Bronn and Moqorro were in the front row, closest to the dragons. The five, fiercely protective, had lined up in front of their visibly shaken mother. Jaime and Tyrion had now overcome their shock and smoothed their expressions back to polite interest. The rows of _Golden Company_ officers were calm and accepting. Clearly, they already knew the truth of Griff's sword just as they'd known the truth of Griff's identity.

Behind the Company men were the great lords and ladies of the nearby keeps and castles. They whispered amongst themselves, eyes bright and calculating as they looked between the rightful King of the Seven Kingdoms and his sworn sword. In the back were the archers who had just been honored. Their puzzled expressions as they observed the chattering assembly revealed their confusion. The hallways and doors were filled with castle guards, servants and tradespeople, all looking at her as if she was an unknown creature, unlike anything they'd ever seen before.

Brienne was so stunned it took her a moment to understand Griff had ended the assembly. The hall emptied quickly, the people no doubt eager to spread the story of the female knight who now carried the sword of the Targaryen queen. In moments, only the Company officers, the king's council and Jaime, Bronn and Moqorro were still in the room with Griff, Brienne, Podrick and the dragons. The castle guards stepped out into the hallways, no doubt eager to put distance between themselves and the dragons. Once the hall emptied, the dragons and Brienne relaxed. The five began to prowl around the room, comfortable with the men and woman who were still with their family.

"Lord Jon, are the troops ready?" Griff asked.

He looked expectantly at Serjeant. The big, brawny _Golden Company_ officer turned his head to look at the council members. They looked back at the Company officers. Serjeant glanced at Griff as he waited for someone else to reply.

"Serjeant," Griff nodded to him. "I was speaking to you. You are Lord Jon Lothston."

Serjeant grunted. "Jon Connington is Lord Jon, Lord of Storm's End and Lord Paramount of the Stormlands."

"I remember you objected to being called Ser Serjeant because you weren't a knight. Now you're a lord. Will you respond if we call you Lord Serjeant?" Podrick suggested mischievously.

Several of the officers, including Salladhor, snickered. Serjeant flushed as red as his artificially colored hair and glared at them. The men immediately smoothed out their expressions. Serjeant nodded in satisfaction and turned back to Griff.

"Hmmm…Lord Serjeant." Griff had a similar smirk on his face. "A good suggestion, Pod, but everyone must address a lord with respect. Calling him a lord and a serjeant may confuse them, or him. Shall we compromise with Lord Loth?"

Serjeant grunted again but nodded in agreement. "To answer your question, the troops are ready. We can begin patrols of the capital at once."

"The men will need to familiarize themselves with the city," Varys pointed out. "Perhaps they can begin rounds with the city guards? That will allow the people to become accustomed to seeing them."

"Agreed." Griff turned to Bronn. "Ser Bronn, I understand you were the former commander of the city watch. Take the officers to meet with the current commander."

Bronn raised his eyebrows. "I don't rightly know who the current commander is. We go through city commanders almost as fast as we go through rulers around here."

Tyrion drew his breath in on a sharp hiss. As expected, he, Griff and Jaime glared at Bronn. Ned and Tanda also added their narrow-eyed censure. Worse, the Company officers turned to glare at the knight, their hands hovering dangerously close to their swords. Brienne and Podrick looked to the dragons. The five, accustomed to the men and their weapons, were unperturbed by their action. Griff's mouth tightened and he took a step closer to Bronn. Jaime spoke up quickly.

"The current commander is Humfrey Waters," Jaime explained. "He was promoted a few months back. Previously, he was the captain of the Dragon Gate. I believe he's had a hard time with his men, with low morale, corruption and bribery. However, the Gold Cloaks pulled together during the attack from the Army of the Dead."

"I have a plan to deal with the problems with the Gold Cloaks," Griff assured. "Lord Varys, take my officers to meet this Humfrey Waters. They'll implement my plans."

Varys bowed to Griff then turned to the officers. After a brief discussion, he led them out of one of the side doors of the Throne Room. Only Serjeant and Salladhor remained. They looked around the enormous hall with interest, much like the young dragons.

"Your Grace, your officers' attire is very much like the City Watch cloaks. I propose your men add your sigil to their uniforms," Tanda suggested. "It will help distinguish them from the Gold Cloaks, generate much-needed work for many tailors and assure the people that the dragons are protecting them."

"Excellent suggestion, Lady Tanda," Griff approved. "Lord Hand, make arrangements for tailors to visit the _Golden Fleet_ ships to begin the work. My men will walk around the city today and formally take over patrols at daybreak tomorrow."

Tyrion's mouth tightened. "You mean once the Westerlands army leaves?"

Griff raised his eyebrows in his Daenerys-like way and looked down at the Hand. Brienne moved to stand at her king's shoulder. Tanda, Ned and even Balon shifted closer to Griff, unconsciously lending their support to the Prince of Dorne. Tyrion saw their unity and looked away; his lips pressed together in frustration. Brienne understood his disappointment but it did no good to hold his anger. No matter how the Hand to Queen Daenerys felt about Griff, Tyrion had to realize his protests meant nothing to the rightful king, his council, his men or the people rapidly developing loyalty to him.

Brienne shifted her attention to study Jaime, who also looked at his brother, concern visible in his wildfire green eyes. Jaime was dealing with so many changes without a moment of respite. The loss of his beloved sister was still fresh, as was their battle with the Army of the Dead and his fear of what they thought was her last moments. He would lead his army north tomorrow, to face an uncertain future. Tyrion would stay behind, managing the capitol in his Queen's name, beside the rightful King of the Seven Kingdoms. Maybe Jaime's shock hadn't been because Griff was giving her a Valyrian steel sword. He, after Tyrion pointed it out, recognized _Dark Sister_, the sword of House Targaryen. Perhaps he'd been shocked Griff had the long-lost sword in the first place.

"Ser Jaime, are your men ready to leave?" she asked, hopeful her friend still had faith in her.

"We will be," Jaime assured her. "Many of the men were expecting the order and some are eager to leave. They've seen what's coming for us and want to face it head on."

"Better to die as heroes than live with the taint of dishonor," Tyrion murmured.

Bronn hitched up his sword belt. "Only fools put limitations on living. A dead hero is as cold as a dead scoundrel. Dead is dead."

"Not necessarily. How many times has Beric Dondarrion come back from death?" Tyrion asked.

Serjeant stared at him. "Are you serious? How does a man come back from death?"

"Apparently, you need only ask politely." Tyrion shrugged.

"It's not that simple, Lord Tyrion," Ned corrected. "A red priest travels with Lord Beric. He's the one given the power of resurrection by the Lord of Light."

"You've seen this man resurrected?" Serjeant stared at the Lord of Starfall.

Ned nodded soberly. "I have."

"It is a rare and dangerous gift," Moqorro warned. "Death, even momentary death, weakens the body. Those who come back are diminished. And those who come back only do so for a specific purpose. Our Lord guides us all. To follow the flame is to follow the truth."

Griff shuddered visibly. The dragons, picking up on his sudden response, rushed to his defense. Brienne, still holding _Dark Sister_, raised the sword to defend her king. Serjeant, Ned, Balon and Salladhor put their hands on their sword hilts. They all looked around for the threat but there was nothing to defend him from. No one had entered the hall nor did she sense a threat.

"What is it?" she asked. "What's wrong?"

Griff looked at her, then at _Dark Sister_ in her hands. He reached down to scoop Serdun up in his arms. The green dragon, normally aloof and now very tired of being coddled, surprisingly didn't try to free itself. Serdun laid its head on Griff's shoulder. It sensed Griff needed comfort, not protection, and gave its father the support he needed.

"Perhaps the time has come to tell you how I was led to _Dark Sister_," Griff decided.

Brienne looked from her king to her new sword. _Led to_? Griff hadn't always had the sword? That made sense. The sword had been lost for over two hundred years, long enough for many to forget it had even existed. She lowered her sword and wondered about its companion. Two Valyrian steel swords had been created for Visenya and Aegon the First. While Visenya had wielded the aptly named _Dark Sister_, her brother had carried _Blackfyre_. It was rumored to be larger but have matching ornamentation to _Dark Sister. _The only difference was _Blackfyre_ had dragon heads where _Dark Sister_ had dragon flames on the cross-guard and pommel.

Griff, with Serdun still in his arms, turned for the side doors. Everyone hurried after him. They were silent as they followed along the corridor to the council chambers. Guards and servants all stiffened at seeing the dragons flying overhead. The guards quickly folded their hands behind their backs while servants ducked into doorways and open doors.

Once they were all seated and the dragons settled by the windows, everyone turned to Griff. He sat at the head of the table with Tyrion on his right and Ned on his left. Brienne, Podrick, Balon and Moqorro sat beside Ned. Tanda, Jaime and Bronn sat beside Tyrion. Serjeant sat at the other end of the table, in Jon Snow's usual chair. Salladhor sat at his right.

Tyrion's eyebrows rose at seeing the _Golden Company_ officer occupying the position normally reserved for a ruler. He looked at Griff to gauge his reaction. Griff's attention was on the sword Brienne carefully leaned against her chair, close to her hand.

"You were led to _Dark Sister_, your Grace?" Brienne prompted. "You didn't already have it?"

Griff shook his head. "No, I didn't. About six months before you came to Essos, I was plagued by…" he paused, as if unsure of how to describe the event. "Thoughts, visions, dreams, I don't know what to call them. They filled my mind every waking minute and haunted my nights. I could barely sleep for more than a few minutes. At the time I feared I was losing my mind."

"What were these dreams, your Grace?" Ned asked.

"A crow with three eyes, white winds, a darkness filled with icy fingers and a blood-red ruby." Griff spoke out loud but his voice was flat and listless, as if he was back in the dream. "Hour after hour, day after day, the images filled my mind. I had no hunger, no thirst, no desire for sleep, companionship or even an interest in living itself."

He fell silent, as if lost in the memories. The dragons turned from sunning themselves, sensing their father's melancholy. The five squawked, breaking Griff out of the darkness that had gripped him. His head jerked up and he smiled at the five. Catren left its favorite place near the windows to fly to Griff. He leaned back to allow the brown dragon to land in his lap. Allwyn cried out as it also came to the table. Brienne leaned back obediently to allow the blue-grey dragon to settle in her lap. Ned, with a dragon seated on either side of him, stiffened and shifted in his seat.

They all turned to look at the other three dragons still by the windows. Serdun squawked and turned back to the sun, making it abundantly clear it didn't want any more cuddling. Ardayn, as independent as Serdun, calmly stretched out its wings to catch the sunlight. Gallan looked from the sunshine to Podrick then settled into the couch cushions.

Brienne turned back to Griff. "What did you do, your Grace?"

Griff stroked Catren. "After weeks without sleep, even with forcing myself to eat and drink, I could no longer hide the effects from Lord Jon."

Everyone turned their heads to look at Serjeant seated at the far end. He shook his head, causing the beads on his three-pointed beard to click together.

"Lord Jon Connington," Serjeant explained.

They all turned back to Griff. Catren shifted, pressing into Griff, elongating its neck to rest it on his shoulder. Griff stroked its back, between the rows of spikes. Catren made a sound between a purr and a rumble, revealing how relaxed and content it was in Griff's arms.

"Was Lord Jon able to help you, your Grace?" Podrick prompted.

Griff nodded. "He told me the white winds were snow, which can only be found in the North or beyond the Wall. We both agreed something was compelling me to go there."

"You returned to Westeros before now?" Tyrion asked.

"Yes," Griff admitted. "I had to come, no matter the risk. That lack of sleep and constant images were affecting my mind. I couldn't think, read, make clear decisions and had even started to slur my speech. I wouldn't have survived if I didn't stop the images."

Griff shuddered, as if the memories were still painful to recall. Catren rose on its back legs and rubbed its head against his hair, sensing how desperately its father needed the comfort. Brienne was startled by how _alike_ the dragon and the blood of the dragon were. It was an odd thought, given they were entirely different creatures. Something about their interaction, or how Catren's coloring blended with Griff's brown leathers or the absolute, unconditional love between them, bonded them in a way even greater than blood.

The other dragons flew to the table. Podrick quickly rose to assist Serdun as it descended to join them. Gallan, Ardayn and Serdun sniffed the air and prowled along the table length. Tanda, Ned, Balon and Moqorro pressed back against their chairs. The others, more used to the dragons, continued to watch Griff. Griff took his time to settle Catren back into his lap. He smiled warmly at the other dragons before he continued his story.

"I commissioned a ship to take a group of us to the Shivering Sea. I didn't know what we'd find but I was finally able to sleep on the voyage. The closer we got to the Wall, the more my energy and drive returned. We made it up the Antler River before a snowstorm descended and almost wrecked the ship. The captain refused to take us any further. We then had to set out on foot, hunting for my peace of mind."

"And you found it?" Ned asked. "How? Where?"

"We'd only left the water when I saw a black crow. It was the three-eyed crow from my visions. After four days of walking, of chasing after that stupid bird, we saw a group of children," Griff explained.

"Children?" Brienne repeated. "Wildling children?"

Griff shrugged. "I don't know. They were the first people we'd seen, other than our group, so we tried to hail them. We must have frightened them because they ran away from us. We followed their tracks and found a cave. The inside was filled with roots from the monstrously large trees above us. The roots were wet and cold, touching us like icy fingers."

"Are you saying you found _Dark Sister_ in a cave north of the Wall?" Tyrion demanded.

Griff nodded. "We spent the night in the cave but it was so damp we couldn't start a fire. While there, I dreamt of a man with long, grey hair and roots piercing his body. He was surrounded by the bones of the dead, but he still lived. He said 'The flame is truth, trust the fire' over and over again."

"Moqorro said 'To follow the flame is to follow the truth'. That's why you shuddered when he spoke," Podrick surmised. "It reminded you of what the man in your cave dream said."

"Yes. The words repeated in my dreams for the entire night. I awoke more tired than when I'd fallen asleep." Griff looked at the sword at Brienne's side again. "When the sun rose the next morning, it illuminated the flames on the sword's pommel. It was tangled up in the roots, high above our heads. I had to climb up the roots to retrieve it. I didn't know what it was at the time but I knew it was what I'd come for. Once I had it, I couldn't carry both my ordinary steel sword and _Dark Sister_. So, I took _Dark Sister_ and left my weapon near the entrance."

"A three-eyed crow came to you in your dreams, ordered you to go north of the Wall, guided you to a cave in the middle of nowhere and gifted you with the sword of House Targaryen?" Tyrion's disbelief was obvious in every word he spoke. "I can't believe it."

"Do you believe in dragons?" Griff asked. "Do you believe in men who return from death, again and again? Do you believe in the dead who attack the living?"

Tyrion's eyes widened as he looked at Catren in Griff's lap then at the other dragons. Brienne saw the stark realization darken the dwarf's eyes. Dragons, men who returned from death and the dead who walked were very real. A crow with three eyes, who carried out the will of the Gods, wasn't hard to accept after all they'd already experienced.

Brienne recalled the meeting when she'd first brought the baby dragons to the _Golden Company_ office in Tyrosh. She'd told Griff and Tristan about how she'd found them. Griff's instant acceptance had puzzled her at the time.

"_Followers of the Gods of water and fire directed you to the dragon?" Griff repeated carefully, as if he was unsure of what he'd heard._

_She nodded. "Yes."_

_Griff turned to look at Tristan. _

"_The Gods directed Brienne to dragons." There was an odd inflection in his voice, a heaviness that hinted at greater weight than just mere words._

"_It's true," Brienne insisted. "The dragons are right here. I'm not lying to you."_

_Griff turned back to her, a sudden fire lighting in his dark blue eyes. Something in his expression sent prickles down her spine. She straightened in her seat. Even the dragons seemed to pick up on it, alert and watchful, suddenly silent. Something shimmered in the air around them, like heat rising from burning sand. _

"_I know," Griff agreed, his voice still odd and heavy. "Man cannot understand the will of the Gods. He can only have faith and follow the path they lay before him."_

_Brienne stared at him, uncomprehending. The intensity in his eyes unnerved her. He was looking at her but seeing something inside his own mind. _

"Man cannot understand the will of the Gods. He can only have faith and follow the path they lay before him," Brienne quoted.

Griff looked at her, his expression as stark and set as it had been that day. "Yes."

"That's why you so easily accepted my half-truths and lies, why you never pushed me to explain how I really got the dragons." Brienne understood now. "You knew to trust those who brought you fire, whether it was a sword or dragons. You'd been told fire was your guide."

"I accepted you even before you brought me the dragons." Griff's indigo eyes blazed. "I saw the fire in your eyes the first time we met on that dock in Braavos."

Brienne froze. The heat in his gaze was hot enough to singe her nerve endings, making the fine hairs on her arms stand up from the shock. Allwyn, snuggled down in her lap, raised its head to sniff the air. The other dragons hissed, aware of the charge around them. Tanda looked nervously at Ardayn prowling close enough to touch. The Lady of Stokeworth pressed herself into the back of her chair, as if trying to put more distance between herself and the dragon.

Ned looked from Brienne to Griff then back to Brienne. "I don't understand. Why did you lie to your king? You were disloyal to Prince Aegon?"

"I didn't intend to lie to him," Brienne explained. "I was trying to protect the baby dragons. At that time, I only knew him as an officer of the _Golden Company_, not as the rightful King of the Seven Kingdoms."

Everyone was silent as Brienne told them the full story of how the young dragons were born. Gallan settled into Podrick's lap while Ardayn and Serdun stretched out on the table. Tyrion and Podrick, who'd already heard the story while in the _Chamber of the Painted Table_, and Serjeant, filled in when she paused. Varys slipped into the room as she spoke and sat down on Serjeant's left. He also listened silently, looking from her to the rapidly growing dragons to the wide-eyed men and woman gathered around them.

Silence descended when Brienne finally finished speaking. Even Bronn, normally flippant and blunt-spoken, had nothing to say. Jaime, Tyrion, Tanda, Bronn and Ned stared at her with the same dumbfound amazement as the servants and observers outside the Throne Room. Balon and Moqorro absorbed the new information netter, watching her with their usual calm acceptance. The dragons looked around curiously, unable to determine why the council members were so fixated on their mother. Finally, Bronn broke the silence.

"You're not just the keeper of the Gods' dragons. You _birthed_ these five," the knight insisted. "You're the fucking _mother_ of dragons."

"No, Daenerys is the Mother of Dragons," Brienne insisted. "She brought dragons back into the world. Now, perhaps any Targaryen descendant can hatch dragon eggs if their blood mingles with a dragon's fire."

"Very few descendants can survive fire," Jaime reminded her. "A fire at Summerhall killed most of House Targaryen."

Brienne nodded and looked down at Allwyn. The blue-grey dragon looked up from its position curled in her lap and squawked quietly. It was easier to look at the dragon than it was to meet the gazes of the stunned men and woman around her. Before silence could fall again, Ned cleared his throat.

"Your Grace, what did you do once you had the _Dark Sister_?" Ned looked at the sword resting against Brienne's chair. "Did you recognize it?"

"Actually, Lord Jon recognized the sword," Griff admitted. "He was a friend of Rhaegar's and had seen paintings and drawings of it. Once he saw it, he presented a theory of how the sword had gotten into that cave."

"_Dark Sister_ was last seen with Brynden Rivers, one of the bastard sons of Aegon the Fourth," Tyrion recalled. "He was sent to the Wall for beheading a man he'd promised safety."

Griff nodded. "Brynden Rivers, or Bloodraven, as he was called, disappeared during a ranging party. Lord Jon suspects a storm separated him from the team. He found the cave for shelter and died there. The cave was full of bones. Over time, the sword became tangled in the roots, hidden and forgotten."

"The Valyrian steel swords in the Iron Throne were also hidden and forgotten," Brienne pointed out. "Then, when the army of men needed them, the Gods revealed them to us."

Jaime, Bronn, Balon and Ned all looked down at the swords they'd been gifted. Though the blades had been presented by Griff's hand, the weapons had truly come from the Gods' plan to defeat the Night King. All four men looked up and at each other, as new understanding settled behind their eyes. They each had important roles in the Great War and the survival of humanity.

"The Gods are bringing their warriors and their weapons together," Tanda observed. "The threat has been building for the last four years but humanity only became aware of it in the past few months."

"No," Salladhor disagreed. "The Wildlings have known about it longer. They were the first to suffer attacks."

Everyone turned to look at him. The former pirate straightened in his chair and pulled down the hem of his fine plum colored tunic. Unlike most of the Company officers, he didn't wear the familiar golden uniform. He seemed to enjoy the gauzy embroidered silk material.

"How do you know?" Bronn demanded.

Salladhor hesitated then shrugged. "I was a pirate. I earned gold by exchanging spices for cargo from Hardhome to the free cities. I heard stories about the dead who attacked the living."

Cargo? Brienne stared at him. What did the Wildlings, poor and desperately fighting for survival, have to trade for spices? They had no gold, no food and even their lands were frozen and barely supported life. How could the Wildlings trade with a pirate? Then she understood. A red mist of rage blinded her vision. She arose so fast Allwyn, who'd been snuggled in her lap, cried out and jumped to the table.

Brienne had _Dark Sister_ in her hand and pointed at Salladhor's throat before she'd made the conscious decision to approach him. Griff was only a step behind her, pulling her away from the former pirate before the blade could make contact. The dragons, seeing their mother struggling against their father, squawked anxiously. Everyone, except Podrick and Salladhor, scrambled out of their seats to get away from the frightened, visibly upset dragons. Podrick froze, staring at Brienne and Griff with the same shocked horror as the dragons.

"Brienne! Calm yourself," Griff ordered.

He dragged her away from Salladhor, allowing the former pirate to topple his chair back. He scuttled away on his hands and feet, putting distance between himself and _Dark Sister_. Brienne continued to struggle against Griff, her fury giving her energy.

"Let me go!" she demanded.

"Brienne, I command you to calm down!" Griff ordered.

He twisted her bodily so she faced away from Salladhor. The sudden action sent needles of pain up from her injured feet. She gasped and slumped in Griff's arms. Even so, she twisted her neck to glare at the former pirate.

"He's a slaver!" she accused. "He sells children for gold. The Wildlings have nothing else to trade."

Everyone, except Serjeant, Varys and Griff, looked at Salladhor with horrified disgust. They remained pressed against the walls, waiting for the dragons to calm. The five and Podrick watched Brienne as she took deep breaths and forced herself to relax. Griff kept his arms around her and pushed her away from the former pirate, towards the dragon's favorite place beside the windows. Salladhor rose to his feet but backed away from Brienne. He brushed off his elegant tunic as he watched her with shocked dark eyes.

Griff still had his arms around her and walked her away, step by step. "Brienne, release your sword."

Brienne looked down at _Dark Sister_. It took a conscious effort to open her hand. The priceless Valyrian steel sword clattered to the polished floor. She took another deep breath and forced her body to relax.

"Good." Griff still hadn't loosened his tight grip around her shoulders and waist. "Now the other one."

Brienne looked down at _Bright Star_ still in her sword sheath. She'd forgotten she had two swords but Griff remembered. In fact, he was remarkably calm for a man who had just discovered his master-of-ships sold children for profit. A horrible realization settled over her. She remembered what Griff had said in the godswood before she explained the importance of _Dawn_.

"_Brienne, we don't always get to choose our allies from only honorable men." Griff rubbed his hands along her arms in a comforting gesture. "For every Jon Snow or Ned Dayne, there are a hundred Daeron Vaiths and Manfrey Martells. Men who make poor decisions and compromises to reach their goals. Just as Jon Snow accepted the Wildlings who killed his Night's Watch brothers, I accepted the Dornish lords."_

"You know," she said sadly. "You know he sells children."

Griff's arms loosened around her but he didn't let her go. "He did. He doesn't anymore and he saved my life."

That got her attention. This dishonorable man had sold human beings but he'd also protected her king. Many men had terrible events in their pasts. Jaime and Tyrion were both kinslayers, Bronn had tried to kill Drogon and Daenerys, she herself was a kingslayer after executing Stannis and even Podrick had killed a Kingsguard. Everyone followed their own moral code. Each of them had beliefs and goals. The Gods had brought them together because of their skills and their pasts, not despite them. Salladhor had saved Griff's life. Whoever he'd been was not who he was now.

"I'm calm," she assured Griff. "You can let me go now."

Griff didn't release her. Instead he looked to the dragons and Podrick. They were still at the table, stiff and anxious as they watched them. Brienne took deep breaths and her easing temper transmitted to the dragons. They relaxed along with her.

"Podrick, come to the couch," Griff ordered.

Podrick looked at the dragons with worry but did as his king ordered. Once he settled on the cushions, the dragons cried out and flew to him. Allwyn settled in his lap and burrowed down. He opened his arms as the rest of the dragon, including the normally aloof Ardayn and Serdun, squeezed in with them. Once the dragons settled with Podrick, the other members began to creep back to the table.

Salladhor righted his chair but didn't sit. "My Lady Ser, not all of us were born into privilege. We had to fight and struggle to survive. Yes, I sold anything I could sell, including people. But those children are far better off in the _Golden Company_ than as part of the Army of the Dead."

Brienne froze in Griff's arms. "The _Golden Company_ has slaves?"

Griff finally released her. "No, we don't have slaves. Every boy who joins the Company does so of his own free will. He has food, clothing, safe living quarters and earns gold." He walked around to face her. "Where did you think we get our squires? They didn't come from the noble houses of Westeros. Over ten thousand boys have been saved from slavery by joining us."

Brienne stared at him. "What about girls?"

"Until you came along, we didn't think women could fight alongside men," Serjeant spoke as he resumed his seat. "We have some girls as cooks and seamstresses but we weren't training them to join our ranks."

"We will now," Griff assured her. "Word had gotten out that we have a female officer. Several women have contacted us to purchase commissions."

"Purchase commission?" Bronn repeated as he gingerly sat down. "People pay you to fight for the Company?"

"They do now." Serjeant confirmed, a satisfied smile on his face. "We're the finest private force in the world. The _Golden Company_ put House Targaryen back on the Iron Throne."

"Brienne put the Targaryens on the Iron Throne," Jaime corrected. He looked at the dragons. "Brienne and the dragons."

"Brienne is an officer of the Company and sworn to Aegon Martell Targaryen. He holds the throne of Dorne and the loyalty of four of the seven kingdoms of Westeros." Serjeant reminded him. "We're now helping him gain the rest. The _Golden Company_ are kingmakers."

There was no denying Serjeant's statement. The _Golden Company_ had sheltered and protected Brienne and the dragons. Then Brienne and the dragons had claimed the Iron Throne for House Targaryen. Company men had secured the Reach and the Stormlands and were working to stabilize the Riverlands. The _Golden Company_ not only made kings, they made alliances, reputations and dynasties.

Brienne scooped up Serdun. Surprisingly, the green dragon didn't protest or try to wiggle to be free. She sat down beside Podrick and Serdun willingly settled into her lap. Ardayn and Catren pressed into her on either side. She put her arms around them and hugged them close.

"I'm sorry," she murmured. "I didn't mean to frighten you."

Griff held out his arms. Gallan flew into his embrace. He turned to face the council members but stayed close to his family. All five dragons visibly relaxed. Griff, like Brienne, knew how much disagreements between them upset the dragons. They might be the most dangerous creatures in the world but they were also deeply sensitive, loyal and very young.

Ned looked from the now calm dragons to the still shaken council members. They'd all sat down and looked at each other, unsure of how to proceed. The Lord of Starfall once again displayed his pragmatic, focused nature. He looked down to Salladhor.

"Lord Salladhor, Prince Aegon said you saved his life," Ned reminded him. "How was that?"

Salladhor looked from Brienne to Ned. Slowly, he sat back down but was careful to keep his chair turned so he could watch Brienne.

"I was making a return run from Hardhome when I saw his group on the shores. They flagged my ship and I took them aboard," he explained.

"Yes," Griff agreed. "We no longer had a way to leave Westeros or a three-eyed crow to guide us. Luckily, the Wall is very tall. We followed it, but stayed among the trees until we reached the frozen shores. Lord Salladhor was on his way to Eastwatch and picked us up. If he hadn't gotten us, we would have had no way to return to Essos."

"A man who looked like Rhaegar and carried a sword of House Targaryen might not have been too popular with the Night's Watch," Salladhor suggested.

"Not only did Lord Salladhor pick us up, but he kept us hidden while he docked at Eastwatch." Griff added.

Brienne studied Salladhor. "You were a pirate, looking for an easy way to acquire wealth. Why would you stop for an unknown group of men? They could be deserters from the Night's Watch, or Wildlings angry you'd taken their children."

Salladhor nodded. "True, but deserters and Wildlings don't have Valyrian steel swords with rubies big enough to pay for a warship."

Brienne's eyes narrowed. "You wanted _Dark Sister_."

"I wanted a sword valuable enough to make me a very rich man," he corrected. "How was I supposed to know it would lead me to all this?"

"What happened?" Podrick asked. "Did you try to take the sword from King Aegon?"

"No," Griff answered. "I told him I could give him more than riches. If he followed me, and built my navy, I'd give him a castle, a lordship and more power than he could imagine."

"Those were only words." Salladhor shrugged. "I'd heard the same and more from a friend who talked me into supporting Stannis Baratheon."

"What?" Brienne stiffened.

Serdun dug into her lap and cried out. It was the dragon's concern that kept her from reaching for _Bright Star_. Instead, she took deep breaths to keep herself calm.

"Stannis Baratheon wasn't the rightful king." She fought to keep her voice even.

"I know," Salladhor agreed. "But my friend believed in him. Davos is the most honest smuggler I knew."

"Davos? Do you mean Ser Davos Seaworth?" Tyrion asked.

Salladhor looked at the Hand. "Yes. Do you know him?"

Tyrion nodded. "Yes. Ser Davos is now an advisor to Jon Snow, the King in the North."

"Yet another king. Westeros is full of them, isn't it?" Salladhor noted.

"But I'm the true king," Griff reminded him.

Griff leaned against the table the dragons used to sun themselves but didn't release Gallan. Ardayn flew from Brienne's side to the table, now that the tension between Brienne and Griff had dissolved. Serdun wiggled in Brienne's arms and she rose to take it to join Ardayn.

"How did you prove to him you were the true King of Westeros, your Grace?" Ned asked.

Griff released Gallan as Serdun settled on the table. Brienne bent down to retrieve _Dark Sister_. Salladhor stiffened but remained in his seat. Brienne went back to the couch and leaned the sword against the arm. The former pirate glanced at the sword then back at Brienne.

"Lord Salladhor and several of his men came to ask me about my sword. We were crossing the Narrow Sea, leagues away from land," Griff recalled. "I used a candle to set my sleeve on fire. That's when I told him I was Aegon Targaryen. Either he took us to Braavos or I'd set his entire ship on fire – and survive it."

"Stannis had a crazy red witch with him." Salladhor's mouth twisted at the memory. "She burned anyone who disagreed with her. After watching men burnt as sacrifices to her Red God, seeing a man set himself on fire and not burn was a shock."

"Don't I know it," Bronn agreed. "I almost shit myself when I saw the mother of dragons here take direct dragonfire and walk away with just a sunburn."

The council members had recovered from being frightened by the dragons' anxious reactions. As expected, Jaime, Tyrion and Griff glared at Bronn. Ned and Tanda gave him withering looks and shook their heads. Balon, Moqorro, Varys and Serjeant had bland, noncommittal expressions on their faces. Salladhor, however, glanced at Bronn and nodded in agreement.

"All Stannis had was a weak claim to the Iron Throne, Davos and that crazy witch. King Aegon had the blood of the dragon, a powerful army and proof of his claim to the Iron Throne. So, I gave up my old ways and joined him. Now I'm the Lord of Rook's Roost and he commands dragons." Salladhor leaned back. "I think I made the right choice."

_Choice_. Brienne looked around at the men and woman at the table. Everyone one of them had made choices that brought them to this time and place. They hadn't realized they were all part of the Gods' grand design, carefully moved to the positions necessary for them to serve the army of men. The Night King had become powerful in the past few years but the Gods' plan had begun long before, the night a red comet had heralded the births of the prince who was promised and his future sworn sword.

Brienne glanced down at _Dark Sister_. The sword had been hidden for over two hundred years, stored in an icy cave, concealed from humanity until the Gods revealed it. As they'd done with the Valyrian steel weapons in the Iron Throne, they'd carefully left clues to aid the army of men. Somewhere on Dragonstone was a clue so important, it had altered Rhaegar's life.

The quiet, scholarly man known for his melancholy disposition and skill at playing the harp had turned himself into a warrior. He'd also become obsessed with creating the three heads of the dragon. Rhaegar had known the blood of the dragon was necessary to bring dragons and magic back into the world. He'd been so focused on his quest that he'd ignored the problems and suffering around him. His poor choices and arrogance had blinded him to the destruction caused by his selfish actions. He hadn't lived to see the rebirth of dragons and, with it, the resurrection of House Targaryen.

Now his son and his sister would lead a new and better House Targaryen. This generation had seen the mistakes of their bloodline, from madness to greed, from dishonor to downfall. The Gods had given them another chance, to be a new breed of dragons who protected their own, fought with honor and guarded all of Westeros. Rhaegar had known House Targaryen was the key to surviving the Long Night. But how had he known? What had led to the realization and his quest?

Did Dragonstone still hold the clue to the three heads of the dragon?


	52. Wraith Keeper

The Keeper

Chapter 52 – Wraith Keeper

Later that night, Brienne sat on the ruined couch that served as Ardayn and Serdun's nest, between the two sleeping dragons. Though they shared the nest, they left enough space for her to settle between them. She stroked their backs, enjoying their magical heat under her fingertips. She'd often done this during the nights she'd been unable to sleep, her fear of _Dragonbinder_ keeping her from rest. The horn was still missing but she had the comfort of knowing it was with the _Iron Fleet_, under the care of Yara Greyjoy. Yara would recognize it if it was found before the fleet docked in Blackwater Bay. She knew how dangerous it was. The horn would be in their possession soon enough.

Now their focus was on trying to reason out what Rhaegar had known. Griff and Podrick were at the table near the balcony, studying Podrick's sketches from Dragonstone. Gallan was stretched out on the table, reptilian eyes half-shut as it watching the two discuss the various drawings Podrick had laid out. Catren was asleep in Griff's arms. He stroked the brown dragon absently as he walked around the table, studying the images from different angles.

Allwyn was in Podrick's lap as he sat and waited for Griff's assessment. The blue-grey dragon was nearly asleep, too. Normally, no one could sit if the king was standing, but Griff rarely paid attention to that rule. Alone, in private, he didn't act like an inaccessible king. Daenerys was the same way, preferring to put aside the constraints of queen when away from her court. Brienne recalled the night, here in this room, when Daenerys had first claimed her as family.

_Daenerys shook her head. "No, I'm not 'your Grace' in private. Not when I can throw off the expectations of others, the robes of queenship, the ornaments of rulers and the, frankly, tedious braided hairstyle of Khaleesi. When alone, together as we are now, we're a family who shares a common goal. You'll help me bring order and stability, create a better world for the people. Please, call me by my family name."_

_Brienne smiled. "Yes, __Dany__."_

_Daenerys's smile was bright enough to light up the room. Missandei nodded in warm approval while Brienne blushed furiously._

Now Brienne was in the same room, surrounded by the same candles, shadows and dragons but with a different ruler. Daenerys must surely know Brienne followed Aegon Martell Targaryen, not Jon Snow. It wasn't possible to keep the knowledge of the rightful King of Westeros from Daenerys, not after their successful battle against the Army of the Dead. It must have been a terrible shock for her to learn the new Prince of Dorne had a stronger claim to the Iron Throne than she did, equally powerful armies and commanded the young dragons.

Brienne hadn't lied to Daenerys but her omissions must have hurt and enraged the queen as much as outright lies. Soon, Griff and Daenerys would meet. She would also be reunited with the Dragon Queen. It wasn't a meeting she looked forward to. Their reunion would hurt her as much as it would hurt Daenerys. Brienne knew seeing Daenerys's disappointment and betrayal would damage her, too. She feared the tender place inside of her that had begun to accept admiration and friendship wasn't strong enough to endure such trauma.

Jon Snow must be disappointed, too. He'd believed he was her 'just king' and had taken pride in it. He'd even developed a bond with the young dragons. Jon, however, understood honor. The Starks held honor and duty as prized traits. Brienne hoped Jon understood and accepted her alliances were already set before she returned to Westeros. His vow to stand House Stark at her back stemmed from Brienne saving Sansa, not from his mistaken belief that Brienne considered him her king. Brienne had brought Sansa to him. It was the reunion with his sister that had led House Stark to recover from near destruction.

House Stark was strong again with the return of Arya and Bran, the fall of the Lannisters and the Freys, and the elevation of House Tully. It was House Targaryen's future that worried Brienne. Griff was doing everything he could to avoid war with Daenerys. The bond between Drogon and the five assured Westeros wouldn't suffer another dance of the dragons; their armies were evenly matched and Griff was building the people's loyalty to House Targaryen. Daenerys didn't want the people to be loyal to her house, she wanted them to be loyal to her. She wouldn't allow Griff to take the Iron Throne without a fight. Even if the situation didn't deteriorate to battle, they still weren't united. The fate of Westeros, if not the entire world, may depend on their ability to work together and save them all from the Army of the Dead.

_The dragon must have three heads._

Something had convinced Rhaegar he needed to father three children, to create a three-headed dragon. What was it and was that reasoning enough to convince Daenerys to join with Griff to fight their common enemy? Brienne was sure that was why the Gods had led her to the five, the Mother of Dragons and the new _Sword of the Morning_. They were the keys to ending the Long Night.

"What do you think?" Podrick finally burst out, breaking the thick, sleepy silence.

"I don't know," Griff admitted. "Some of the images are smudged and it's hard to see them in the candlelight. Perhaps something will strike me in the morning."

Podrick looked disappointed. His mouth turned down at the corners and his eyes lost some of their sparkle. He glanced down at Allwyn nearly asleep in his lap. Griff shifted Catren in his arms and gave Podrick an encouraging smile.

"The pictures themselves are very good, Podrick," he reassured. "You're a talented artist."

Podrick brightened, a hopeful smile lighting his face. "Really? Thank you, your Grace. I had to draw with charred sticks so the work isn't as fine as quill and ink." Then he sobered. "Perhaps the pictures might have been more helpful if I'd used the proper tools."

"You didn't know the king would need to study your images, Pod," Brienne reassured. "It's good you have them to give him the idea. Podrick also drew pictures of the tunnels to show where the deposits of wildfire were stored."

Griff turned around so quickly he disturbed Catren in his arms. The brown dragon cried quietly and tried to shift into a more comfortable position. Griff deposited it in its nest before turning back to Brienne.

"I thought all the wildfire had been taken out of the city?" he questioned, walking back to the table. "It's too dangerous to keep here with dragons."

"It has been removed," Podrick assured. "I drew pictures to note where the barrels were stored. The wildfire is now at Harrenhall."

Griff relaxed and nodded as he scooped up Gallan. The blue dragon was a dead weight in his arms. Gallan laid its head on his shoulder, just like any sleepy child in its father's arms. Griff stroked its long neck, between the rows of spikes. Gallan purred as Griff took it to the nest it shared with Catren. Knocking at the hall door caused them to turn to the entrance. The humans looked to the dragons for their response. Serdun and Ardayn opened their eyes, sniffed the air, then went back to sleep. Catren half-rose in its nest but didn't seem alarmed. Allwyn and Gallan, held in the warmth of Podrick and Griff's embraces, both stirred enough to look towards the door. Brienne rose, trying not to disturb Ardayn and Serdun.

"It's someone they know," she surmised as she went around the couch.

Griff frowned out at the inky darkness beyond the balcony windows. "I didn't hear alarms. Why else would someone come at this time of the night?"

"I'll find out." Brienne crossed the floor silently on her heavily bandaged but boot-free feet.

She looked back to see Griff lay Gallan down beside Catren. He straightened and put his hand on _Dawn_ but remained where he was. Podrick was still seated with Allwyn watching from his lap. His drawings were spread out of the table for anyone to see. Brienne opened the door partway but was careful to keep her body in the opening.

It was Jaime. He was dressed in a casual shirt and breeches instead of his usual uniform. She glanced down to see he wasn't wearing his golden hand. His stump was concealed under his shirt sleeve. He pressed his mouth into a tight, thin line, his eyes dark and anxious.

"Ser Jaime." Brienne leaned forward and gave him a puzzled smile. "Are you well?"

"Brienne, I need to speak with you." Jaime rubbed his hand over his heart as if he was trying to massage away pain. "The army leaves at daybreak. I don't know if we'll see each other again. If this is our last time together, I must tell you the truth. I don't want to leave without you knowing how I—"

He stopped speaking when the door was pulled out of Brienne's hand. Griff opened it further and glared at Jaime.

"Ser Jaime." Griff's voice was chilly. "It's rather late for a social call, isn't it?"

Brienne saw Jaime look beyond Griff, to the sleepy dragons, Podrick sitting near the balcony and the papers on the table. His eyes narrowed as he looked back at Griff.

"Your Grace." Jaime's voice cooled, too. "I wanted to speak to Brienne before the army left in the morning."

"Yes, the morning." Griff stepped behind Brienne and pulled the door closer, cutting off most of Jaime's view into the room. "Brienne and I will both be there to see you off. You may speak to her then."

"I only need a few minutes of her time," Jaime insisted quietly.

Griff's eyebrow rose. "Well then, say what you must say."

Jamie looked from Griff to Brienne then back to Griff, frustration visible in his darkening green eyes and tightening mouth. Jaime stepped back into the hall. Brienne moved to join him but Griff put his hand on her shoulder to restrain her.

"I need to speak with Brienne alone," Jaime insisted. "It's private."

"No, it's not," Griff contradicted. "Brienne is my sworn sword. I will know everything you say to her. She keeps no secrets from me."

Jaime drew in a harsh breath. His expression chilled until it could have been carved from ice. He stopped short of glaring at Griff. Griff's mouth also tightened as he used his hold on Brienne to pull her into the room.

"But what I need to say—" Jaime was still speaking when Griff shut the door in his face.

"Wait," Brienne protested, "he wasn't finished."

"No, he's never finished," Griff agreed, his voice still cold. "I finished for him."

"He leaves in the morning." Brienne put her hand on the latch. "He might have had something important to say."

"Then he'll say it in the morning," Griff countered. "How important can it be if he waited until such a late hour to discuss it?"

He covered her hand with his own and pulled it from the latch. She tugged but he held fast. Short of an outright struggle that would alarm the dragons, Brienne couldn't free herself from his hold. She sighed and allowed him to take her away from the door. She frowned as Griff led her back to Ardayn and Serdun's nest.

"Ser Jaime is my friend," Brienne protested.

"Ser Jaime is an idiot who doesn't know what he wants," Griff retorted, finally releasing her hand.

"That's not true. Ser Jamie simply has his own code of honor. Isn't that right, Podrick?" Brienne turned to her squire for confirmation.

Podrick's eyes widened as he looked from his lady to his king. Griff raised his eyebrows, causing Podrick to swallow visibly. Her young squire wrapped his arms around Allwyn, as if for support, before he nodded hesitantly.

"Y…yes, I think so, your Grace," he admitted. "I think Ser Jaime has known what he wants for a long time. However, I believe his loyalty to his sister wouldn't allow him to betray her trust." His gaze shifted to Brienne. "No matter how much he wanted to."

Griff snorted. "Then he truly is the stupidest Lannister."

"Ser Jaime is not stupid," Brienne defended him instantly. "He's honorable and deeply loyal in his own way."

Griff opened his mouth to reply, then seemed to think the better of it. Instead, he looked around at the sleeping dragons and sputtering candles. Gallan and Catren settled back into their nest and shut their eyes. Ardayn and Serdun hadn't even bothered to stay awake for Jaime's brief visit.

"Perhaps we should all retire for the night," Griff suggested.

Podrick shifted Allwyn to rise from the chair. The dragon jumped out of his arms and coasted to the bedding Brienne had used when Daenerys had occupied the bedroom. Podrick came to the blue-grey dragon and pulled back the sheets. Allwyn settled under the covers as Podrick joined it.

"Podrick, you can go back to your own room and get a good night's sleep," Brienne offered. "I thank you for staying last night to take care of Serdun and me."

Podrick's eyes widened and his mouth tugged down at the corners. Still, her squire tried to hide his disappointment. He remained in the bedding as Allwyn shifted closer to his side.

"Are you sure, my Lady Ser?" he asked. "I'm worried about your bindings. What if you need me to change them again during the night? Your feet are swollen from the salt water that seeped into your boots."

"Brienne, your feet are swollen? Why didn't you tell me about this?" Griff gave Brienne a severe look, censure in his indigo eyes. "No, Podrick, you will not return to your room. You'll remain here in case your lady needs your assistance. Brienne must allow her feet to heal."

"Yes, your Grace." Podrick slid quickly into the sheets.

It was as if he wanted to settle in before the king changed his mind. Griff frowned as he watched the squire and dragon curl into each other. Brienne also looked but didn't see what disturbed her king. Allwyn had shared the bedding with her when Daenerys had slept in the other room. The dragon had been a great comfort while guilt at misleading the Dragon Queen had disturbed her sleep.

"Pod, Allwyn should sleep with the other dragons, not with you," Griff scolded mildly.

Allwyn squawked softly and slid closer to Podrick. In doing so, it shifted the sheet to settled over Podrick. The dragon was clearly ready for sleep. Podrick looked at the blue-grey dragon then up at Griff, sadness once again pulling at the corners of his mouth.

Brienne couldn't bear to see the disappointment in his eyes. Podrick wanted to stay with Allwyn as much as it wanted to stay with him. The dragons were bonded to Podrick through his bond to her. He was as much hers as they were. What value was there is forcing a separation between them?

"If you insist, your Grace," Brienne agreed. "But _you_ must convince Allwyn first. Unfortunately, Podrick and I don't speak very much High Valyrian."

"Dragons don't need so much physical affection," Griff tried to reason with her. "They need discipline and routine."

"The problem will take care of itself soon enough," she pointed out. "The dragons will become so large they won't be able to come inside buildings. You, yourself, cuddled and carried Catren and Gallan to their nest."

"It's one thing to hold them for a time," Griff insisted. "It's another matter to snuggle with them all night long."

Brienne crossed to the door leading to the sleeping chamber. "I'm sure Allwyn will understand when you explain it. I suggest you find a comfortable place to hold your conversation. Allwyn is quite clever. I think it will stay in your lap and your talk might take the whole night."

Griff narrowed his eyes at her cheeky response. His face flushed at seeing her brilliant blue eyes sparkling with mischief. Brienne coughed to disguise her sputter of laughter. Griff turned to glare at her.

Podrick, being equally as clever as Allwyn, pulled the sheet over his head, feigning sleep. Griff continued to glare at Brienne as she slipped through the connecting door to the sleeping chamber. The king was the only one left standing, a scowl marring his beautiful features, in the sputtering candles and velvety darkness.

It was best to let the dragons – all six of them – decide their own sleeping arrangements.

.***.

Brienne knew she was dreaming. All around her was darkness, inky and all-encompassing. Far ahead of her was a faint light. She walked towards it. As she drew closer, she became aware of the chill. It wasn't the icy cold of nights spent in the North but a pervasive dampness that seeped into her bones.

The light pulsed at irregular intervals. It wasn't like a candle flame, flickering in the wind, but rather the light source was being concealed and revealed. A few steps closer and she could make out the outlines of men gathered around the light. Their bodies were shadowed and insubstantial, more like wraiths than men. As they moved, they gave her brief glimpse of the light source. It was _Dawn_, the magical sword of the stars. The sword's tip has been stabbed into the ground. It stood upright, milky-white and glowing with purity and purpose, reflecting its light even in the darkest night.

A soft murmur filled the air, like the chatter of indistinct voices. Brienne looked at the wraiths, trying to decipher facial features or characteristics that would help her identify them. Try as she might, she couldn't determine who they were or even how many there were in the meager light of the magical sword of House Dayne. She moved closer.

"Stop it!" a voice cried. "Stop it!"

Brienne blinked at seeing Jaime fall to his knees in the illumination cast by _Dawn_. He was naked, his skin covered in chilled gooseflesh, and his entire body shivered visibly. The wraiths seemed to be circling him, still humming in voices she couldn't understand. He looked around desperately, his eyes wide and wild with terror.

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry," Jaime sobbed. "Please, stop it!"

Brienne shuddered at hearing the misery and agony in his voice. She wanted to go to him but her body wouldn't move. Neither he nor the wraiths seemed to notice she was close enough to touch them. Jaime curled into himself and crossed his hands over his shoulders. As he did, she heard his voice, faint and resonating, like an echo from the past.

"_Ser Arthur allowed me to hold it on several occasions. He even knighted me with _Dawn_. The blade was so sharp it cut through my armor, cloth and skin. I still bear the scars to this day." He touched his shoulder. "They are my most cherished possessions."_

Sure enough, she could see the scars on Jaime's naked shoulders. Even more, she saw him touch his shoulders with _both hands_. Jaime had his sword hand again and didn't seem surprised by it. He put both hands on the ground and bent down, his tears soaking into the dirt as he sobbed as if his very soul was being torn apart.

One of the wraiths separated from the rest and leaned closer. Brienne froze as _Dawn_ illuminated long, silver-blond hair and deep indigo eyes. At first, she thought it was Griff. After the initial shock, she realized it wasn't. No, this must be Rhaegar. He was as startlingly beautiful as Griff, even in this spectral-like form. Griff's resemblance to him was remarkable but their differences were equally apparent.

The wraith's silver-blond hair was a curtain that fell well past his shoulders, while Griff's hair was cut at his nape. The ghost-like eyes were haunted and melancholy whereas Griff's eyes shone with intelligence and mischief. The wraith's refined lips pulled down in a natural frown. Griff had inherited Elia's full lips and sly Martell smile.

A flame, like fire, burned in Rhaegar's eyes, much as it did in Griff's. Griff's fire was as bright and welcoming as a candle lightening the night, while Rhaegar's fire reflected a dark, unsettling menace. Griff used his fire to generate energy for illumination and change. Rhaegar's fire consumed, like the conflagration that had destroyed much of House Targaryen at Summerhall. There was a darkness in this wraith that indicated living had been a burden and life had held little joy for him.

Rhaegar's wraith leaned closer to Jaime but didn't speak. It didn't need to. Jaime cowered away as if just seeing it was enough to drive him to the edge of madness. He breathed in audible gasps, his skin pale and sweaty. He curled into himself, making keening sounds like a broken animal.

The wraiths moved again and _Dawn_ was hidden from Brienne's view. A body moved between her and the sword, outlining the other-worldly figure in the pale glow. Suddenly the wraith pulled two swords from their scabbards at his sides and held them up. Brienne's heart beat faster. She knew of only one swordsman in all of Westeros so gifted with speed, strength and agility to be able to fight with two swords simultaneously. A man known as the most chivalrous warrior in the Seven Kingdoms and the deadliest of Aerys's Kingsguard.

She was seeing the outline of the legendary Ser Arthur Dayne, the former _Sword of the Morning_.

The wraiths moved and she could again see _Dawn_ with Jaime cowering beside it. He looked up at the image of Arthur, his lips trembling as he fought to speak. The regret and utter self-loathing in Jaime's expression tore at Brienne's heart. Was this the pain Jaime concealed every day? How did a man survive living when he hated himself so much? Even this Jaime, whole and strong, was desperate and despairing.

Arthur's wraith twirled both swords with expert coordination then tossed one of his weapons to Jaime. Jaime held up his sword hand to deflect it. The blade cut into his palm and fell to the floor beside him. Jaime cradled his bloody sword hand and looked at the sword. Brienne's breath caught as she recognized the sigil on _Bright Star_, Ser Duncan's sword. Jaime made no move to pick up the former Lord Commander's weapon.

The wraiths began to murmur again but Brienne still couldn't understand what they were saying. Jaime seemed to know. He looked from one to the next, as if listening to what they were saying to him. The sweat dripped down from his hairline to also dampen the ground. The wraiths began to drift away. Jaime shook his head and brought his hands together in a pleading gesture, blood running down his arm and dripping to the dirt from his cut palm.

"No, don't go!" he implored them. "Don't leave me here. Take me with you. I beg you. Take me with you!"

The wraiths didn't listen. Arthur took _Dawn_ by the hilt and pulled it from the ground. He twirled both of his swords in perfect synchronization as the wraiths began to drift away. Jaime remained where he was even as he begged and screamed to go with them. Tears poured from his eyes and his voice broke on his pleas. The wraiths ignored him. The further they moved away, the more the darkness seemed to swallow Jaime. When the light from _Dawn_ became so faint, it could barely be seen, the wraith of Arthur stopped.

"I wish you good fortune in the wars to come."

Brienne gasped and stumbled back. The wraith wasn't talking to Jaime. It looked directly at her. _Ser_ _Arthur Dayne's ghost was talking to her_. Then he turned back to follow the other wraiths. The light from _Dawn_ faded and darkness descended. Jaime screamed in heart-wrenching agony.

Brienne opened her eyes. For a few disorienting seconds, she thought she was still in the dream. Then her gaze focused on the lace netting the created the artfully draped canopy over the bed. She turned to look to the balcony doors, the curtains still open, to see the glitter of stars in the distance. Like _Dawn_, the sword of the stars, they provided enough light for Brienne to see her surroundings. She was in Daenerys's bed in the Red Keep, not in a cold, damp cave filled with Jaime's horrors.

The image of Jaime's desperation and despair as the darkness overtook him filled her mind. She thought she'd seen him at his lowest; chained as a prisoner of Robb Stark; more dead than alive after losing his sword hand; stunned and horrified when he finally realized Cersei had led House Lannister to its destruction and inconsolable after his sister's death. She thought those were the low points in Jaime's life.

They weren't. The lowest point wasn't the things that had been done to him. Being imprisoned, maimed, and blinded by love hadn't broken Jaime. No, it was the act Jaime had done himself that had broken him. He had said as much before he'd agreed to join them to fight the Great War.

"_What is a knight without honor? I was crippled long before I lost my hand. I just didn't realize it."_

Jaime had thrust his sword into Aerys's back. He'd done so to save King's Landing from being destroyed by wildfire. It had been a necessary and proper action to protect the people. Then he'd sat on the _Iron Throne_ and waited for judgement. Perhaps if he'd knelt beside the king's body instead of atop his throne, Ned Stark might not had judged him so harshly. Perhaps if Jaime had rushed to protect Elia and Rhaenys, history wouldn't have judged him so harshly. Perhaps if he'd died protecting Rhaegar's family, Jaime wouldn't have judged himself so harshly.

Those were the choices Jaime had made. As a result of them, the hopeful boy who'd idolized Ser Arthur Dayne grew into a dishonored, bitter man. He'd told her Rhaegar and his Kingsguard brothers haunted him. She'd assured him they weren't there to haunt him but to remind him to fulfill Rhaegar's final order. Jaime's destiny was to protect Rhaegar's son.

Was her dream the same as what Jaime dreamt? Had he experience the same self-loathing and terror as he did in her dream? She hadn't understood what the voices were saying but Jaime had. He'd begged them to stop speaking but had also begged to go with them. Jaime wanted to be free from his vows and his life. That freedom wouldn't come. The Gods wouldn't allow it. Jaime had survived events that would have crushed another man.

"_You are not useless, Ser Jaime," she protested. "You are a warrior. The Gods need you to fight in the Great War."_

"_The Gods?" Jaime demanded. "They gave you dragons. They just took from me."_

"_They gave you what was necessary to become who they need you to be," she disagreed._

"_There's only one resource we need from the Lannisters and that is _you_. We need Jaime _fucking_ Lannister fighting on our side."_

"_Ser Jaime, I told you, repeatedly, that you were under the Gods' protection," Brienne reminded him gently. "You could not have survived all you've been through without their protection. They need you, _we_ need you, to fight in the Great War."_

Jaime had a great destiny, a role so important to the Gods' plans that they'd kept him from death, time and time again. In a few hours Jaime would lead his army north to fulfill that destiny. She didn't question the Gods' decisions but she prayed they would be merciful. Perhaps the destiny they'd lead Jaime to would change opinions, alter judgement, fill his pages in the White Book and end the self-loathing that had broken his spirit.

As she thought, Brienne became of an odd noise coming from the courtyard below. She listened intently. It was an irregular thumping noise accompanied by what sounded like harsh breathing. She slipped out of the bed and listened again. All was quiet except for the odd noise. She went to the door that separated the sleeping chamber from the sitting room. The starlight illuminated the dragons and Podrick, sleeping peacefully, undisturbed by the sound.

Daenerys had been given the suite reserved for the most honored of guests. The rooms were so large they had balconies facing different courtyards. The odd noise was too far away to disturb her sleeping family. Quietly, she shut the connecting door and turned for the balcony on the far side of the room. She walked on silent, bandaged feet to the balcony doors.

The moon was a high in the sky, casting an icy glow over the courtyard below. There were a few small trees and some flowers to brighten the area, which was mostly brick and stone. A pathway led to the gardens, the sweet perfume masking the ever-present stench of the city. Beyond the gardens, Brienne could see the wall that protected the capitol from attack. She walked to the edge of the balcony and looked down. A man stood in the far end of the courtyard. Brienne stiffened as the man, shrouded in shadows, raised a sword. Instinctively, she reached for her own sword, only to realize she wasn't wearing her sword belt.

The man struck his sword against the wall but not in a practiced thrust as a warrior would strike. Instead he used the sword like a club, striking it against the wall over and over, his breath coming faster and faster with every hit. Then he dropped the sword and staggered back, into the starlight, gasping for breath as if he'd pushed himself to the point of exhaustion.

It was Jaime.

He fell to his knees as if his legs would no longer hold his weight. Brienne could see he was still dressed in the same shirt and breeches as earler. He dropped his head and cradled his stump as if it pained him. _Darkroar_ lay beside him, unblemished and unharmed by his activity. The same couldn't be said about Jaime. His whole body shuddered as if he were chilled or fevered. His despair was so strong she felt it even over the distance between them. She shivered.

Suddenly, Jaime looked up, as if sensing she was there. For a moment they were both frozen. Jaime opened his mouth but no words emerged. Brienne tried to speak but no words came to her mind. They were close enough to speak without raising their voices but words had deserted them. Perhaps it was better this way. They both knew the distance between them was greater than words, greater than the space of a courtyard and even greater than the choices they had made.

Their distance was as great as the will of the Gods.

**Author's Note:**

I hadn't planned to post chapters for another 3 weeks. Some readers have asked me to post sooner. I hope everyone is staying safe and well during this difficult time. Thank you for continuing to follow this story. Do you want me to return to my previous posting schedule? I won't have a beta reader so the mistakes might be plentiful. I'm happy to post if it brings you joy as we adjust to our 'new normal'.

Discord communities for GoT fans to not feel so alone during this difficult time:br /

/invite/gameofthronesbr /

/QHtwZr6


	53. Leave Keeper

The Keeper

Chapter 53 – Leave Keeper

Brienne watched the soldiers gathered in the predawn darkness. The first glow of the rising sun began to lighten the sky as the Westerlands armies organized themselves into orderly rows. The horses' whines as they moved to position and the quiet murmur of conversation hummed in the air. She stood with Podrick, Serdun and Gallan inside the archway of the Gate of the Gods, her back pressed against the rough bricks. She surveyed the activity both inside and outside the city walls. Despite the early hour, the market and the street were filled with merchants, traders and curious onlookers.

The people were careful to stay away from the dragons. The soldiers, many of whom had seen the dragons battling the Army of the Dead, pressed against the far side of the wide archway as they passed, outside of Serdun and Gallan's fire range. Merchants began setting out their wares on the far side of the market, casting nervous glances at the dragons and their keeper. The Gold Cloaks, stationed near the gate and in the tower, looked back anxiously. Their heads twitched as they tried to guard the gate while also keeping the young dragons in their sights.

Along with the citizens, many _Golden Company_ men were already on duty. Most were stationed on the wall to guard the city and the gate but some mingled with the crowd. Several already had King Aegon's personal sigil on their uniforms. The three-headed dragon holding the spear piercing the sun decorated the backs of their golden tunics and was stitched in small emblems over their chests. Brienne watched as the men calmly passed among the masses, shifting through the gaps without aggression or snarled commands. The citizens, accustomed to being bullied by the Kingsguard and Lannister guards, willingly shifted aside to make way for the Company men.

Podrick turned his head to follow her gaze. "The people are responding well to King Aegon's men," he noted quietly.

Brienne nodded and spoke in a low voice. "These are men King Aegon knows personally. They guarded him and trained with the dragons in Valyria. The king knows the people will judge him by his men's actions when among the citizens. The dragons trust the _Golden Company_ troops. That calms the citizens and encourages them to trust the men, too."

Podrick looked down at Gallan and Serdun. While the dragons were calm, they were still alert. They trusted the _Golden Company_ men but they were surrounded by thousands they didn't trust. Their reptilian eyes focused on the steady line of Westerlands troops marching out of the city. Along with the army, the Lannister guards who had protected the Red Keep and Lannister family were also on their way out of King's Landing. Griff had praised them for joining the march north to defend their houses and families in the Great War. Brienne wasn't sure if the men truly wanted to march or if they knew their days in the capitol were limited. Griff was swiftly purging the Red Keep, and King's Landing itself, of those loyal to House Lannister.

"My Lady Ser, I'm confused about your dream last night," Podrick kept his voice low to avoid being overheard.

Brienne glanced around before bending down to speak to him. The dragons insured no one was close enough to overhear their conversation. Still, she pressed her head close to his so she could speak at little more than a whisper.

"What confuses you?"

She'd been deeply disturbed by the dream and seeing Jaime so defeated on the courtyard below her, that she'd been unable to return to sleep. Instead she'd replayed the dream in her mind, over and over, until she'd heard Podrick stirring in the next room. It had been a relief to discuss it, and her interpretation of it, with him as they walked to the main city gate.

"Your prophetic dreams are normally dragon dreams." Podrick turned his head to whisper in her ear. "The dragon, the wolf, the lion and the eagle have always been a part of them. None of them were in your dream last night."

Brienne considered. "I saw two of the swords from my last dragon dream in last night's dream. _Dawn_ was glowing brighter than I'd even seen it glow before and Ser Arthur tossed _Bright Star_ to Ser Jaime. Even then, Ser Arthur had a third sword. He twirled it in his hand. I wasn't able to identify his third sword."

"Do you think it could be _Lightning_?" Podrick questioned. "There is a connection between Ser Arthur and House Dondarrion. Lord Beric is betrothed to Allyria Dayne. If they do marry and have children, _Lightning_ will pass down to an heir of Houses Dayne and Dondarrion."

Brienne shook her head. "I don't know. I was only able to identify _Bright Star_ because the glow from _Dawn_ illuminated Ser Duncan's sigil perfectly."

"Which meant you were supposed to see the sigil," Podrick concluded. "_Dawn_, of course, is unmistakable. No other sword in the world glows."

"Nor is any other sword a conduit for the Gods," Brienne pointed out. "_Dawn_, like the dragons, is made from magic. It's a weapon wielded by men but controlled by the Gods."

"Which supports King Aegon's belief that the Night King wants to be a god," Podrick agreed glumly. "He already had immortality, an undead army, a dragon and a sword of the stars."

"We have powerful weapons, too," Brienne reminded him. "Intelligent commanders who can strategize and prepare, Valyrian steel and dragonglass to destroy the dead, living dragons with free will, _Dawn_ and we have the Gods fighting on our side."

Podrick was quiet for a long moment, his head bent in concentration. Gallan and Serdun turned away from their guard duty to glance at him, picking up on his restless concern. Brienne took the time to study their surroundings. The sky was noticeably lighter, but the torches were still adding brightness to the morning dim. Along with the merchants setting up their wares, more ordinary people had come into the market. They watched the dragons and the last of the Westerlands army pass under the Gate of the Gods and into formation beside the Kingsroad. Worry and distrust was clear on their faces as the last signs of the Lannister reign left the capitol.

Podrick finally raised his head, drawing her attention. "Are you sure the dream is supposed to guide your actions, my Lady Ser? Your previous prophetic dreams told you important details but didn't expect you to act on that knowledge. Why is this one different?"

"I don't think the dream was supposed to prepare me for a future event," Brienne explained. "I believe it was to show me what Ser Jaime endures. He's one of the Gods' warriors. They need him to fight in the Great War."

Podrick considered then nodded. "I agree. Ser Jaime told us Prince Rhaegar and his Kingsguard brothers come to him at night. That could be the basis of your dream. What confuses me is the timing of it. Ser Jaime told you many days ago about his nightmare but you only dreamed it last night."

Brienne turned her head to stare at the assembled army just outside the main doors. "Ser Jaime is leaving today. He's leading the Westerlands armies north to fight in the Great War. Perhaps this will be the last time I'll see him." Emotion clogged her throat. "This might be my last chance."

"Last chance for what?"

Brienne blinked rapidly to clear her eyes before she looked back to Podrick. Her squire frowned at her with concern. Even Serdun and Gallan, picking up on her sadness, squawked at her. She bent down to stroke them while she regained control of her emotions. She had said goodbye to Jaime before, when she'd set out on her quest to find Sansa and Arya. That parting had been difficult but she'd taken comfort in knowing Jaime was safe with his family. He had support and people who sided with him. Now those people were gone and only Tyrion remained. The Hand would remain in King's Landing. Who would there be to support Jaime? She worried now that she'd seen how powerful his demons truly were.

"This might be my last chance to remind Ser Jaime he's a man of honor," she answered. "Will he have faith in himself? Will he remember he has an important role to play in the Gods' plan?"

"He's the commander of the Westerlands armies. Men who have already fought the Army of the Dead and _won_ because of his leadership. I don't think he'll easily forget that," Podrick consoled her. "His men admire and respect him."

Brienne sighed. "I hope that will be enough."

Podrick opened his mouth to reply but a commotion from the far side of the market caught his attention. Gallan and Serdun spread their wings and squawked, alarming the people in the market square. Their cries were answered by Allwyn, Catren and Ardayn. Brienne straightened and, along with the crowd, looked toward the far side of the square.

Griff appeared, flanked by Ned, Balon, Serjeant and several _Golden Company_ soldiers. Ardayn, Catren and Allwyn flew over their heads. Silence descended as the people stopped what they were doing to bow to the king. Brienne was sure the people stayed in their low bows more to make themselves smaller targets than to show deference to their new monarch. The city guards took it a step further, putting their hands behind their backs while bowing, trying to appear as unthreatening as possible. The Company men in the throng merely glanced at the dragons and continued to observe the crowd, not bothering to hide their hands or weapons as they nodded to their commander. They knew the dragons and the dragons knew them. They didn't need to reassure the deadliest creatures in the known world of their loyalties.

Griff stopped walking, turning his head as if to study something that had caught his attention. The dragons stopped when the men did, coming to the ground in front of Griff. The three faced outwards to study the crowd, along with the king's men. Brienne blinked as she watched the dragons guard Griff together with his Company men. Their defensive action didn't surprise her but their new formation did. They had all shifted to form a circle around their king. The men and dragons were equally focused, their eyes – human and reptilian – sweeping the masses for potential threats. Griff exchanged words with Balon and nodded to a man bowing before his cart.

Balon separated from the circle and walked over to the stall. The merchant, still in his bow, straightened quickly when Balon approached him. The man nodded respectfully to the knight. Balon pointed to an object. The merchant hurried to lift the desired object and present it to Balon. Brienne tried to see but Balon's body blocked her view of what the merchant held. Balon looked to Griff who nodded in confirmation. Balon withdrew a coin from his belt and the merchant's eyes rounded in surprise. He looked from Balon to Griff then balked, shaking his head at the coin. Even so, the merchant still held out the item to Balon.

Balon took the item then nodded towards the gate, where Brienne waited with Podrick, Serdun and Gallan. The merchant looked past him then turned back to his wares. He picked up another item and gave it to Balon. Only then did the merchant accept Balon's coin. Balon cradled his new possessions carefully as he rejoined Griff and his entourage.

"What's happening?" Podrick, shorter than Brienne, rose onto his tip-toes and craned his neck. "Why did King Aegon stop?"

"He's buying something from a merchant," Brienne reported.

"A merchant?' Podrick repeated. "Royalty doesn't buy wares from the markets. The quality has fine merchants come to them and select in private."

"That was when the Lannisters were in power," Brienne murmured. "King Aegon knows he must care for all the people, not just the quality. He'll buy from the markets and pay a fair price to all merchants."

Podrick still strained to see. "What did he buy?"

"I don't know," Brienne narrowed her eyes but the rapidly lightening skies were still not bright enough for her to see the king's purchase.

Balon's back was to Brienne but she could see Griff take the items from the knight. The king turned to a nearby torch to study the items in the stronger light. Then he turned back and smiled. He looked past Balon to nod to the merchant.

"Thank you, my good man." Griff's deep, commanding voice could be heard clearly in the quiet breaking dawn. "Your craftsmanship is excellent."

"Your Grace?" The merchant's expression was caught between pleasure and amazement. Then he shook his head, as if to clear it. "Thank you, your Grace. I'm honored. To know you consider my work worthy to present to Lady Ser Brienne, I…I…" The man trailed off, as if unable to find more words to express himself.

Almost as one, everyone looked from Griff to her. Brienne blinked and blushed bright red. Griff grinned and nodded to the man before leading his group across the square towards her. Catren, Allwyn and Ardayn rose back into the air while the Company guards closed in a tight semi-circle behind their commander. Brienne ducked her head and smoothed down the sides of her dress. Today's modified gown displayed the colors of Aegon Martell Targaryen. The deep orange material was decorated with red flames rimmed in gold and black trim was paired with black breeches and flat black boots.

She, like everyone else, bowed as Griff approached them. Too late she remembered she should curtsy as ladies normally did. Cersei had laughed in harsh amusement when Brienne had bowed to her. Margaery, gracious as always, had overlooked her breach of etiquette and had greeted her with warmth and kindness. Brienne tried to push aside her embarrassment as she straightened. She wasn't like other ladies. She was a knight of the Seven Kingdoms. Griff's indigo eyes shone as he stopped before her. He didn't appear upset by her bow. Brienne relaxed. If the rightful king wasn't offended then no one else would dare make an issue of it.

Griff's entourage stopped behind him. The Westerlands troops closest to the gate turned to face the king. Unlike the citizens, they didn't bow but straightened to rigid attention. It was a wave of reaction, each group of men alerting the next. The soldiers turned to face the man who, along with Brienne and the dragons, had defended them from the Army of the Dead. That same man now had the authority to order them to leave King's Landing. As if to emphasis Griff's power, Ardayn, Catren and Allwyn joined with Serdun and Gallan. The dragons' cries filled the air as they joined with the Company guards to form a ring around Griff, Brienne and the council members.

"Sȳrī gaomagon, zaldrīzoti," Griff praised them. He nodded to the men as they stood stiffly in front of him. "As you were. Where is the Lord Commander?"

A man dressed in the crimson cape and armor of an officer spoke. "He's with his bannermen but he'll return shortly, your Grace."

_Your Grace_. Brienne noted that even the Westerlands officers, who had been sworn first to Cersei then to Daenerys, treated Griff with respect and deference. The queens may have claimed King's Landing but Griff held it. He was the one who had raised his sword to defend the people, who'd punished those who harmed innocent children and who was actively working to bring food and trade back to the capitol.

Griff nodded, dismissing the man. The officer bowed and looked down at the dragons. Griff turned his back on the man to face Brienne but the dragons continued to watch the soldiers. The five were relaxed but alert, aware of the tension in the air but not alarmed by it. The Company guards were equally alert, dividing their attention between the army and the citizens.

Griff's eyes sparkled as he held up his new purchases. "The blue one caught my eye. Then the merchant insisted on giving me two when he knew they were for you."

Brienne stepped closer to study the objects he held out to her. The rapidly breaking dawn and mellow torchlights allowed her to see the carved dragons nestled in his hands. One was painted bright blue with golden markings along its wings and spine. The other was a deep indigo with silver markings. Brienne took them from Griff and held them up to the light.

Griff was right. The craftsmanship was excellent. She almost expected the little wooden dragons, almost half a foot tall, to come to life and start chirping at her, even though they were far smaller than the real dragons had been as hatchlings. The little carvings were nearly perfect in every regard except…

"They're beautiful but none of the dragons have this coloring," she noted. "Gallan and Allwyn are dark blue and neither has golden markings."

Griff's grin widened, clearly amused by her observation. "I believe the carvings are supposed to represent us. The blue dragon is the same shade as your eyes with gold markings to match your hair. The purple dragon is almost my eye color and has silver-blond markings. The merchant insisted they belonged together and sold them as a set."

Brienne could feel her blush deepening and hoped the weak morning light hid the color. Given Serjeant's snicker and Podrick's beaming grin, she suspected it didn't. Even Ned and Balon, usually polite and sober, ducked their heads to hide their grins. Griff didn't bother to hide his amusement and chuckled softly, which only increased her embarrassment. The dragons, picking up on her emotional distress, cried out and flapped their wings.

"Thank you, your Grace," she managed, falling back on the safety of formality to keep her voice even. "I'll treasure them."

Griff continued to study her, still grinning before he finally had mercy on her. He turned away to study the lines of Westerlands troops gathered in formation beside the Kingsroad. The grounds around the Gate of the Gods, which had formerly been lush grass and trees now were a desert of dirt and dragonglass, barren of the greenery that had given color and dimension to the landscape. Even the road itself was a bleak, blackened reminder of their first battle against the Army of the Dead.

Griff's smile faded. "Ser Jaime is approaching"

Brienne turned her head to follow the line of troops. Jaime, followed by Bronn and several of his officers, strode down the lines towards them. Jaime and his men wore their Lannister uniforms. _Darkroar_ shone from its place on Jaime's hip. Bronn, even though he was going north with the Westerlands army, still wore his aged olive leather jacket, _Fortune_ gleaming from his sword belt.

Brienne looked around. "Where's Lord Tyrion? Doesn't he want to see his brother off?"

"Lord Tyrion said his good-byes in private," Balon explained quietly. "He didn't want to cause friction with the men who survived Drogon's attack."

Brienne stilled as she recalled that Jaime and Tyrion had been on opposite sides of the war for King's Landing. Jaime had supported Cersei while Tyrion was Hand to Daenerys. The brothers had reconciled as they all joined to fight the Great War, but resentment against Tyrion was still strong among the Westerlands troops.

Jaime and Bronn came to meet them while the officers remained further back, darting anxious glances at the dragons. Still, they bowed to Griff and kept their visibly shaking hands held away from their sword belts. Bronn observed their frightened reactions and snorted.

"Better hope we don't meet the Night King and that dead dragon," he sneered. "They'll bow and tremble themselves to death."

The officers glared at Bronn but remained silent. Jaime and Griff also glared at him but Bronn shrugged, undaunted. Their censure was less effective with Serjeant's snicker and the lack of Tyrion's world-weary reactions. Jaime turned away from Bronn to nod Griff. Griff nodded back but neither man spoke.

Brienne looked at them both and sighed heavily. Griff was still annoyed that Jaime had tried to visit her so late last night. Jaime was equally upset that Griff had shut the door in his face. Then she'd seen Jaime look up at her from the courtyard. His grief, guilt and self-hatred had been so strong she was surprised the force of his emotions hadn't awoken the dragons. She'd wanted to reach out to him but she he'd been too raw, too broken to talk to her. His horrors needed time to recede before he could bear to have them examined.

In the end, she'd said nothing and slipped back inside her room. She hadn't been able to sleep and spent the rest of the night examining her dream. By the time Podrick and the dragons had awoken, she'd decided on what to do. The dream had been a message from the Gods, she was sure of it. It both to give her greater insight to Jaime's tortured soul and an idea of how to ease his suffering. She was the Gods' warrior, the instrument of their will. She would carry out their commands faithfully.

"Ser Jaime, I have a gift for you." She stepped closer to him.

Jaime turned away from Griff to look at her. His jaw was stiff but his eyes were cloudy and sad. He met her gaze briefly before looking down. His mouth twisted into a frown as he stared at the small wooden dragons she held. She blushed and tucked her hands behind her back.

"No, not the carved dragons." She stepped aside and turned to her squire. "Podrick has it."

Podrick froze, as if shocked she had spoken to him. He looked from Brienne to Griff then back to Brienne, his dark eyes wide with worry. Griff's indigo eyes narrowed as he studied Podrick's anxious reaction. Brienne ignored her king to focus on her squire. She frowned at Podrick, who still hesitated.

"Podrick," she prompted.

Podrick glanced at Griff again before sidling close to Brienne's side, almost as if he wanted her protection. Reluctantly, he pulled up his new Tarth-blue jerkin to reveal the dual sword belts he wore. His new red and blue sword belt proudly held his dragonglass sword and dagger. Over it, he had strapped another belt, this one plain black with _Bright Star_ in the sword sheath. Podrick removed the sword and stepped up to Jaime.

"Ser Duncan's sword?" Jaime looked from the weapon to Brienne, emotions chasing across his face too quickly for her to interpret. "I can't take this. It's your family's sword."

"It's the Lord Commander's sword," Brienne corrected. "Previously, you gave me your Valyrian steel sword. I used it to fulfill our promise to Lady Catelyn, to become the dragons' keeper and to carry out the Gods' will. Your sword allowed me to protect Lady Sansa, the baby dragons and the citizens of King's Landing. I hope this sword will allow you to achieve great things, too."

Finally, the emotions chasing across Jaime's face settled into hesitant acceptance. He nodded and smiled, though the corners of his mouth were still tight and strained. Podrick removed the sword from its sheath and laid it across his arm, with the handle facing out. Jaime reached for the sword with his golden right hand instead of his flesh-and-blood left hand. Podrick saw his mistake and tried to shift _Bright Star_ but Jaime's arm was already in motion. Ser Duncan's sword slipped into the curve of Jaime's false hand almost as if it was made for it.

Podrick jerked his arm away, turning the blade. Then they all heard it. A soft _snick_ sounded, as a key would make when turning the tumblers in a lock. Brienne, Podrick and Jaime all stared at the blade now locked in his mangled golden hand. The golden hand that had been disfigured when he'd held it against Cersei's burning body. The hand the Gods had controlled to pull Jaime away before the flames could harm him.

"Fuck me." Bronn whistled. "That hand can't hold a weapon."

Jaime stepped back and shook his arm repeatedly, as if trying to dislodge the sword. His golden hand, with _Bright Star_ held in the curve, stayed firmly in place. Finally, he raised his false hand to eye level, his expression caught between disbelief and desperate hope.

"I…I have my sword hand back." Jaime stared at his hand, his eyes opened unnaturally wide, as if fearing the image would disappear if he blinked.

Brienne's heart beat so fast, she could hear the blood pounding in her ears. She'd been right. Her dream had been a message from the Gods. _Bright Star_ was one of the five swords she'd held in her last dragon dream, one of the swords crucial for winning the Great War. As Ser Arthur had done in the dream, Brienne gave Ser Duncan's sword to Jaime. The Gods, as part of their divine plan, wanted Jaime to carry it.

"No," Brienne corrected quietly. "This isn't _your_ sword hand, Ser Jaime. That hand was part of your past and the man you were before. This is the Gods' hand, for you must follow their will. They have given it to you because you're one of their warriors. You fight for them."

Jaime finally looked away from his hand to stare at her. His eyes filled with tears. The desperate hope in their green depths made her heart ache. But behind the desperation she saw the fire that had recently been relit inside him. Even as she watched, the fire grew stronger and brighter, until his wildfire green eyes burned.

Behind him, Bronn pulled _Fortune_ out of his sword sheath and held it out. "Alright then. Let's see what a Gods' hand can do."

Jaime turned away from Brienne to face the knight. Brienne, Griff and Podrick reached down to soothe the dragons. The dragons, however, were calm. The five looked at Jaime and Bronn but, like their fellow _Golden Company_ guards, focused on the soldiers and citizens gathering closer. The dragons' interest was on those who could threaten their family, not the small miracle taking place in front of them.

Bronn looked down at the calm dragons then slashed out with _Fortune_. Jaime jerked away and raised his arm, blocking the blow with Ser Duncan's sword. _Bright Star_ absorbed the impact and stayed steady in his golden hand. Bronn swung again and their swords clashed with a harsh clank. Jaime shook his head in disbelief as he stared at his golden hand. Bronn attacked again, this time with a volley of strikes. He varied his strokes from straight thrusts to sharp sweeps, testing the range and flexibility of Jaime's renewed fighting hand.

Jaime reacted to the swings, relying more on muscle memory than skill to parry each attack. He seemed to still be stunned, staring at his golden hand instead of his opponent. Fortunately, Bronn wasn't trying to kill him. Around them, the Westerlands troops gathered closer, watching wide-eyed as their commander fought with what should have been his missing right hand. Excitement surged through the air as they called out encouragement and suggestions.

"I don't believe it. It shouldn't be." Bronn paused to wipe the sweat from his brows. "You can fight with it."

Jaime paused too, regaining his breath as he continued to stare at his new sword hand. "Will I be the good as I used to be?"

Bronn shrugged. "I don't know. You don't have a wrist so that limits your motion. Your reaction is too slow and weak. You need time to regain your speed and strength." He paused to consider. "Maybe not as good but, aye, you'll be deadly again."

Jaime's amazement hardened to determination. This time, he was the one who moved first. As Jaime and Bronn continued to spar, their audience grew. It was apparent Jaime was regaining confidence with each swing. He now watched his opponent and began to use his body to sidestep swings. Bronn's strikes became more aggressive as Jaime began to attack and not just defend himself. Jaime's responses became more focused and disciplined, reminiscent of the great swordsman he had been.

Then Bronn struck out with a straight thrust designed to disarm his opponent. Jaime met the thrust with a hard sweep from _Bright Star_. Then he twisted away and pulled _Darkroar_ out of his belt. He swung up with _Darkroar_, forcing Bronn to defend against the attack from the Valyrian steel. An instant later Jamie swung down with _Bright Star_, breaking Bronn's grip on _Fortune_. Both men stopped and everyone stared at Bronn's sword lying in the dirt and dragonglass. Jaime, who hadn't fought with his right hand since battling Locke's men, had disarmed Bronn.

Bronn snatched up his sword and ran the flat side against his leg to wipe it clean. "Two swords at one time. Who do you think you are, Arthur _fucking _Dayne?"

Jaime's mouth fell open and, for an instant, Brienne thought he would burst into tears. Arthur Dayne had been Jaime's idol, the man he'd wanted so desperately to emulate, until the Mad King had torn that dream away from him. To be compared to Ser Arthur, one of the most chivalrous and deadly swordsmen the world had even known, was an honor Jaime had thought beyond his reach.

Slowly, tentatively, Jaime began to twirl _Darkroar_ in his left hand. He took a deep breath and began to mirror the action with _Bright Star_ in his golden hand. The movements were a clumsy attempt to imitate Arthur Dayne's expert skill with dual swords. As he gained confidence, Jaime began to move his swords faster and faster, creating a circle of gold and silver in front of him. He looked at Brienne through the lethal circle. She gasped and froze at what she saw in their depths. More than fire and determination burned in his green eyes. The Warrior himself looked back at her, as if the power of the Faith now burned inside Jaime.

Finally, Jamie stopped, gasping for breath. Unlike last night, when he'd dropped his sword and fallen to his knees in defeat, he stayed upright and strong. He held his arms outstretched, a sword in either hand, fire and determination almost leaping from his gaze. Jaime looked from one hand to the other, as if he still couldn't believe he now had two powerful, whole sword hands. Around him, his men broke out in applause, whistles and cries of approval.

For a moment, Jaime appeared shocked as he looked at his men. Brienne's heart ached at seeing his confusion. When was the last time he'd been applauded? Then Jaime ducked his head as he returned _Darkroar_ to his sword sheath. Brienne suspected he was also using the time to compose himself. He was breathing deeply to take in air but the movement of his shoulders didn't disguise the fine tremor that shook his body. Her heart pounded in rhythm to his gasps. Jaime had spent most of his life hating himself and the things he'd done. He'd been stripped of his honor for an act of deep heroism. More of his life has been spent branded an oath breaker than he'd had as a hopeful and idealistic young man.

He hadn't been given acclaim or even another entry in the White Book since being known as the Kingslayer. His adult life had been shaped by the dishonorable name. It had been his supposed shame laid out for the world to see and to judge. He'd never refuted it, never tried to defend himself, seeing his refusal as a way of protecting himself from scorn and judgement. Instead, he'd chosen false pride, indifference and sarcasm to deflect from the festering wound.

_By what right does the wolf judge the lion?_

Jaime had said that to her, before passing out in the bath at Harrenhall. He'd been sick from the loss of his sword hand, his only source of true pride. It had been his skill as a swordsman that had allowed him to withstand society's scorn and his own self-loathing. The wolf may not have had the right to judge the lion but the Gods did. Jaime had been so focused on guarding himself from the judgement of men that he'd forgotten about judgement from the Gods. Locke had taken away Jaime's source of pride but the Gods had renewed it. He could no longer deny who he was.

Jaime Lannister was a warrior of the Gods.

Brienne stepped forward, out of the protection of the circle of dragons and Company guards. She stopped when she was less than a foot away from Jaime, so close she could see the sweat running down his sharply defined jaw and feel his breath on her face. He carefully tucked his golden hand behind his back. This time, he didn't do it in shame, to hide his lack. He did it because he didn't want to risk hurting her with the powerful weapon that had helped restore his hand, his determination and his belief.

She was aware the men around them had fallen silent and watchful. Griff's indigo eyes darkened as he observed the scene. She knew her king's sharp gaze missed nothing, not the renewed fire in Jaime's eyes, the possible ramifications of his Gods' hand, the sudden fresh optimism in the air or even the wooden dragons she cradled in her hands. Ardayn and Gallan flew up to circle above her, clearly not trusting anyone outside their family to be near her with a weapon. The Lannister soldiers shifted back, trying to stay out of the dragons' fire range. Still they were close enough to see and hear her.

"Ser Jaime, you now see the truth of what I've been telling you." Brienne could feel herself flush at being watched by so many. Still she kept her voice strong and clear. "The Gods have given you what is necessary for you to become who they need you to be."

Jaimie's eyes widened but he didn't try to deny her words. Instead he took a deep breath and nodded. His eyes once again filled with tears.

"I…I didn't believe," he admitted. "But you believed enough for both of us. You saw honor in me when I didn't. You accepted my weaknesses when I couldn't. You understood my decisions when others wouldn't. I can't thank you enough for your faith, Brienne of the Gods."

She shook her head. "No, Ser Jaime, I don't have faith."

She heard the crowd around her gasp. Even Griff, who had been watching silently, stiffened. She understood their confusion. Her words had stunned them, believers and non-believers alike. She was the Gods' warrior, the instrument of their will. How could she, of all people, not have faith?

"Faith is the power to believe without proof to support that belief," she explained. She looked up to Gallan and Ardayn, hovering near her shoulders. "I don't need faith because I have proof. I _am_ the Gods' warrior and I will do whatever is necessary to carry out their will."

Jaime stood tall and straight, now a believer. "What are the Gods' will for me to do?"

Brienne smiled. "Their will is for you to take these men north, to fight the Army of the Dead, guard the realms of men and defeat the Night King."

She stepped closer again, to look directly into his eyes. Jaime stiffened, seeing something in her gaze that startled him. She ignored his reaction, too focused on making sure he understood.

"But most of all," she finished, "their will is for you to bring glory to the name _King_slayer."

Jamie's mouth fell open and his face drained of color. He stared at her as if he'd never seen her before. Brienne stepped back but held his gaze. What she'd said was the truth. Jaime didn't trust himself but Brienne did. More importantly, the Gods did.

"_The clues have been here all along, in prophecies, sigils, house words, even our own actions, but we didn't see them until we needed them."_

She herself had said those words, after she'd finally understood the importance of the swords and the salt priest's words. Jon Snow had only become aware of the threat beyond the Wall in the last few years. The Gods had known for centuries. They had a greater plan, one beyond man's ability to comprehend. They'd known the Great War was coming and had begun to move their warriors and their weapons into place long ago.

_Kingslayer_.

Jamie had been given that name after killing a king who'd wanted to end the world with fire. Now they faced another king who wanted to end the world with ice. _Fire and ice_, two opposite but equally destructive forces, wielded by two opposite but equally destructive kings. It wasn't chance that had kept Jaime, the Kingslayer, alive through events that should have killed him. No, the Gods had kept him alive because of what he'd done and what Brienne was sure he was to do. The Gods need Jaime to be who he was born to be.

The Gods needed their own Kingslayer.

**Author's Note:** I hope you're all safe and well while we all shelter in place. I'm sorry I haven't posted for the last few weeks. I think I'm back in the routine of writing now. I don't have a beta reader so please let me know if I need to make corrections.

So…what do you think of this chapter? It's had taken way longer than I anticipated but Jaime has finally broken free of his past and embraced his future. Is his role in the Great War becoming clearer?

Also, did you notice how often Ser Arthur Dayne is referenced? His presence still reverberates in this story even so many years after his death. Ardayn carries Arthur's name and protects Brienne. Griff wields _Dawn_ and is guided by Arthur's sword. Ned upholds his family name and carries on Arthur's legacy. Jamie bears the scars from Arthur's knighting and will now emulate Arthur's character.

Arthur Dayne's contributions are still not yet complete. I left a big clue in the last chapter. Re-read the part about Brienne's wraith dream then re-watch Arthur's scene at the Tower of Joy. Do you understand the clue?

Please take a moment to leave feedback. Do you like the story? Does the pace and plotting work for you? Do the clues make sense? I've missed writing for you and I hope you've missed me, too.


	54. Training Keeper

The Keeper

Chapter 54 – Training Keeper

_Brienne of the Gods_

That was the name whispered in the air as the Westerlands army began to march north from the capitol. The men were led by their Lord Commander, a man who until only a short time ago, had been a one-handed, disgraced former Kingsguard. A man who had earned his dishonor after stabbing the Mad King in the back. It was a deed so shocking, he'd been named the Kingslayer. That commander now marched north to face another mad king and proudly bore the favor of the Gods themselves, his renewed sword hand.

Griff didn't wait for the army to begin their march before he turned to Brienne. Ned, Balon and Serjeant also turned to look at her. The dragons and the _Golden Company_ men continued to focus on the marchers. They, and the Company men guarding the gate, weren't distracted from their duty to protect their king.

"Why did you give him Ser Duncan's sword?" Griff demanded.

Beside her, Podrick shivered and shifted closer. The morning air was cool but warming quickly now that the sun had broken the horizon. Brienne glanced down at her squire and saw the anxiety in his dark eyes. She stilled as she realized Podrick wasn't cold, he was worried. They'd all seen the way Griff's eyes had narrowed as he studied her. Podrick viewed Griff as the rightful king, with all the authority that came with kingship. The King of the Seven Kingdom's commands and decisions could never be questioned. He must fear Griff was angry because she'd given _Bright Star_ to Jaime.

Brienne patted his shoulder and smiled to reassure him. Podrick didn't know Griff the way she did. Even if her king was upset, he wouldn't take his anger out on her. Griff knew she answered to the Gods above any man. He accepted she was an instrument of their will. Her king understood and valued her as she was. She had a place in the world King Aegon the Sixth Targaryen was building.

"The Gods willed it." She stepped closer to Griff, holding his gaze with steady regard, even as she cuddled the wooden dragons close to her midsection.

Griff glanced down at the matching blue and indigo dragons she cradled. "Did you know what would happen when you gave him that sword?"

"No," she admitted. "I only knew the Gods wanted Ser Jaime to have Ser Duncan's sword."

She explained about her dream from the previous night, of Jaime naked and broken, surrounded by his Kingsguard brothers and Rhaegar. Ned, Balon and Serjeant listened attentively but she only focused on Griff. His beautiful features were calm and still, his nearly purple eyes steady and his Martell lips pressed into a firm, but not harsh, line. As usual, he listened to her and made his judgement after hearing the full story.

After she finished, she continued to focus on Griff. The rightful King of Westeros remained still, his set features giving nothing away. Brienne knew he was thinking, reshuffling the existing facts and calculating to incorporate this new information. That was one of Griff's greatest strengths. He knew information was power and regarded it carefully. From her peripheral, she saw Ned and Balon exchange glances as they waited for Griff's response. They were as concerned as Podrick, unfamiliar with Griff's thoughtful stillness. Serjeant, however, looked from Griff to the dragons then to the departing Westerlands soldiers. He seemed content to wait until Griff was ready to speak.

"Are you sure it was Rhaegar?" Griff finally asked.

"Yes," Brienne assured confidently. "He looked so much like you I first thought it was you. But his eyes and mouth were different."

"His eyes?" Griff probed. "I've been told I have the same eyes as Rhaegar did."

Brienne nodded. "You do. It wasn't the color or shape that was different, it was what I could see inside his eyes."

"My Lady Ser, you said it was dark in your dream," Ned pointed out. "_Dawn_ was the only light. How could you see inside Rhaegar's eyes?"

Brienne turned to him. "Most people's eyes reflect light, Lord Ned. Your eyes, my eyes, all our eyes are bright and alive. We look at things and we can see them. Rhaeger's eyes didn't reflect light. They seemed to absorb it without giving anything back."

"It was a dream of ghosts, of dead men. Dead eyes cannot see unless they are the Night King's creatures. You said these men were ghosts, not Wights," Balon pointed out.

Ned nodded in agreement to his point but Griff shook his head.

"I understand," he reassured her. "Rhaegar was known to have a melancholy disposition. He kept to himself and spent more time reading that engaging with people. It was said he liked solitude and often stayed at the remains of Summerhall. He preferred to sleep among the ghosts of his ancestors than be with his living family."

There was a bitter edge to his voice. Griff's eyes, filled with light and intelligence, undeniably alive, darkened as he spoke. Discussions of Rhaegar and his choices clearly upset him. Rhaegar had passed his fine features, legacy, and dragon's blood to his son, but his selfish actions had nearly torn the kingdom apart.

"Rhaegar's mouth was different, too," Brienne said gently. "His lips were thinner and turned down at the corners. You have your Uncle Oberyn's smile."

"My mother's smile," Griff corrected quietly but flashed her that brilliant smile, even though it was strained at the corners. "The smile of House Nymeros Martell of Dorne."

Brienne didn't miss how he called Elia 'his mother' but referred to his father as 'Rhaegar'. The memory of his mother warmed Griff as much as discussion of his father angered him. Elia had drawn her last breath while protecting her son. Rhaegar had left them to their fates, dishonoring his family and House Stark, triggering a war that still echoed to this day.

"My Lady Ser, are you sure that other man you identified was my uncle?" Ned asked. "How can you be certain if you only saw him in outline?"

Brienne nodded. "I'm positive. I've never seen anyone command his swords the way Ser Arthur did. He was so skilled and his timing so precise, it took my breath away. Just from watching it, I knew he could twirl one sword and fight with the other, simultaneously, without losing control of either sword. Who, other than Ser Arthur Dayne, could do that?"

"Ser Jaime circled with two swords at once," Podrick offered hesitantly.

"Circled, not twirled," Ned corrected.

Podrick frowned. "What's the difference?"

"To circle with a sword means to hold the sword steady while the arm moves," Ned explained. "Twirl requires the swordsman to turn his wrist and adjust his grip to keep the sword balanced in different positions. To do so with both hands, independently, only my uncle was so renowned."

"The man in my dream did exactly that. He had _Bright Star _in his right hand and another sword in his left. He tossed _Bright Star_ to Ser Jaime. I saw the sigil clearly when the sword fell to the ground beside Ser Jaime. That's why I knew I had to give him Ser Duncan's sword. I wouldn't have seen the sigil if it wasn't important," Brienne insisted.

"What about the third sword? Is it important?" Ned asked. "You identified one sword by the sigil and _Dawn_ is unmistakable."

They all looked at the sword hanging from Griff's sword belt. The milky-white blade with its sunburst pommel, made from the heart of a fallen star, was indeed unmistakable. No other sword in the world glowed with _Dawn's_ pure light and magical intensity. But _Dawn's_ glow hadn't revealed the third sword's identity.

"I couldn't see the other sword very well," Brienne explained. "Ser Arthur still held it in his left hand when he picked up _Dawn_ with his right. He twirled that sword and _Dawn_ just as perfectly as he had with _Bright Star_. He didn't identify the third sword."

Podrick gasped. "Yes, he did!"

Everyone turned to look at her squire. Even the Company guards and the dragons, still watching the last of the Westerlands troops depart, turned at Podrick's sudden flare of excitement. Podrick nearly bounced with enthusiasm and his eyes shone brightly.

Brienne shook her head. "No, he didn't. I couldn't see the sword clearly. Ser Arthur took it with him when he left."

"At which point he spoke to you," Podrick reminded her. "You said you didn't understand what the ghosts were saying, until Ser Arthur's very last words. His words must be important if you understood them."

"I wish you good fortune in the wars to come," Ned recalled. "According to Ser Jaime, my uncle said those words often. He even said them before leaving on his last battle."

"And where is good _Fortune_ now?" Podrick prompted.

Ned, Brienne, Balon and Serjeant stared at him, confused by his question. Griff, however, stilled, understanding causing his features to go slack. He smiled at her squire and nodded.

"Excellent deduction, Podrick," he complimented.

Podrick beamed but the rest of them were still confused. Balon and Ned exchanged glances, their brows furrowed. Serjeant stared at Podrick as if expecting to see the explanation tattooed across her young squire's forehead. Brienne looked to Griff for answers.

"_Fortune_ is currently on its way north, to fight in the Great War," Griff explained. "It hangs from Ser Bronn's sword belt."

Brienne drew in her breath and tightened her hold on the wooden dragons. She recalled the day when Griff had presented Jaime, Bronn, Balon and Ned with Valyrian steel swords. Bronn had been thrilled to receive his and had shown off his fighting moves to entertain the dragons.

"_She's a sweet lady," Bronn marveled, holding the sword up to catch the light._

"_A sweet lady," Tyrion repeated. "So that's what you're looking for now? A lady with a sweet temperament?"_

_Bronn shrugged. "Temper doesn't matter to me. I can hold my own. As long as fortune smiles upon me."_

"_That's a good name for your sword, Ser Bronn," Podrick suggested as he unwrapped the next sword. "For you value nothing as much as fortune."_

_Bronn considered then nodded. "__Fortune__, huh? You know, I like it. Good __Fortune__ is my future."_

Silence descended on the group as they absorbed the implications of Bronn naming his Valyrian steel sword _Fortune_. Bronn now marched north at Jaime's side, despite not being a member of the Westerlands army. Ned looked as shocked as Brienne felt. He stared at Podrick as he put his hand on his own Valyrian steel sword.

"Was that the third sword in your dream?" Ned asked, facing Brienne again. "As Podrick said, you understood my uncle's last words. They must have value. Were they trying to direct you to Ser Bronn's sword?"

Brienne hesitated then shook her head. "I don't know. I couldn't identify the third sword. I didn't see it well enough to know."

A shiver passed through her, even in the rapidly warming sunshine. Podrick was right. Arthur Dayne's words must be important. She'd been so focused on Jaime's pain that she'd overlooked the other details from her dream. The Gods had given her more clues, perhaps ones she wouldn't understand until the time was right. She'd successfully interpreted their command to pass _Bright Star_ to Jaime. She had identified two of Arthur's swords and had understood his last words. _Only_ his last words.

Her gaze fell to Ardayn. The silver-grey dragon was diligently watching the backs of the last Westerlands troops. She'd named the dragon after the famed knight because of its light coloring and the extraordinary reputation of the legendary Ser Arthur Dayne. She'd hoped the powerful name would guide Ardayn. It had never occurred to her that Arthur would also guide her in her journey as the Gods' warrior. She recalled naming Ardayn in the dragon's cave.

"_I've run out of distinguished members of my family." Brienne stroked the little warrior with gentle fingers. The dragon arched its neck but did not waiver. "I do know of another great knight. Ser Jaime's idol was Ser Arthur Dayne, the __Sword of the Morning__. He carried a magical sword called _Dawn_, which chose its own wielder. The sword is milky-white, like your markings. Will you be as strong and as steady as Arthur Dayne, Ardayn?"_

_The little dragon took proudly to its new name, standing tall and straight, refusing to succumb to sleep like the others. Brienne continued to stroke the small creature until she felt the heavy pull of sleep behind her own eyes._

"_Will you remain on guard duty, Ardayn? Will you warn us if danger approaches?" Her voice sounded far-away again. She was fading from this world. "Good-bye, little one. I hope we meet again, in another time and another dream."_

_Her last image before the darkness overtook her was of the tiny dragon, a miniature warrior from days long past, glowing in the last rays of the sun, casting a shadow so long it seemed it could reach back into history and touch the heroes of old._

Ardayn wasn't a dream. Her fierce guard was real and true. Ardayn may not be able to reach into history but it seemed its namesake could. Arthur Dayne had cast a shadow so great, it fell across the world even today. His actions, his honor and his sword carried on. His legacy continued to influence the actions of kings, armies and dragons. Even now, so many years after his death, Arthur Dayne still had a role to play in the war against the Army of the Dead.

.***.

"Ready, Podrick?" Griff called up.

Podrick's head appeared over the battlements. He waved his water skin and grinned down at them. "They're rested and ready, your Grace!"

Griff nodded and backed away from the wall. He looked at his men and waited for them to nod their consent. Then he moved aside to join a group of _Golden Company_ officers. The men all watched at their commander, their bodies taunt and ready for action. Griff glanced around one more time, his gaze running over the men then back up to the battlements.

"_Sōvegon!"_ Griff's voice, strong and commanding, called to the dragons.

Upon hearing the command, the dragons leapt up from the battlements and into the clear blue sky. Instead of diving for Griff or Brienne, as they would normally do, the dragons flew further into the air. Only Serdun, still recovering from its injury, stayed near as it coasted on the breeze.

"Run!" Griff ordered.

A group of over three dozen fighters raced past Griff and ran towards Brienne. The men were unarmed but screamed a furious battle cry. In any other circumstances, Brienne would have pulled out her sword to defend herself from the attack. As it was, she held herself steady and looked up to the sky. Above them, the dragons shrieked and turned back towards the battlement.

"Go!" Griff cried.

Four officers, wearing colored cloaks over their golden tunics, sprinted after the fighters. Their cloaks mimicked the dragons' coloring. The dragons followed the men wearing their colors, as they'd learned to do while in Valyria. The five, who normally stayed close together, spread out and charged from different directions, as directed by the men they were shadowing. They were learning a new approach technique.

Brienne, seated on an old wine barrel, was in the center of their formation. Griff, a deep green cloak held over his shoulder, ran through the men. Serdun, as his shadow, coasted above him. Both man and dragon reached Brienne at the same time. Griff tossed his cloak into her lap and sprinted away. Brienne held out her arms and caught Serdun as the green dragon came to ground. Serdun endured her embrace for only an instant before shrugging to free itself. The injured dragon pivoted in her lap and faced outward, ready to defend her from attack.

The other four dragons, following their leads, approached from different directions. Griff, now running backwards away from the group, watched their descent and approach. The officers reached Brienne, stopped, and turned to face the rest of the men. They crossed each other and ran back into the charge. Above them, Catren, Allwyn, Gallan and Ardayn mimicked their strategy, crossing past each other and over the attack.

Brienne tensed, as she did each time the officers turned back into the men. The first time Griff had walked them through this exercise, she'd worried the dragons would fire on the Company men. She'd forgotten the dragons were used to training with these fighters and understood intent. They knew the men, while fierce and dangerous, weren't really a threat to their mother. Even now, when she'd lost track of how many times they'd repeated this drill, she still tensed every time.

The dragons completed the exercise flawlessly, shrieking as they flew past the group to where the ground was only dirt and dragonglass. The officers stopped, resting their hands on their knees as they regained their breaths. Serdun, deadly and resolute, was still perched on her knees to face the pretend threat. The four other dragons landed just beyond the group. They turned to face Griff and spread their wings, bouncing in excitement. They, along with the men, looked to their commander, waiting for judgment on their performances.

"My Lady Ser, they were magnificent." Podrick's voice was filled with awe and wonder as he called down to her.

He stood on the battlement above her. Even from the distance Brienne could feel his energy and excitement. Her squire shaded his eyes with his hand as he watched the young dragons train with the _Golden Company_ men.

Brienne, below him, nodded in agreement. The dragons were indeed magnificent. She was used to seeing them up close, alert and defensive, as they protected her. This morning was her first opportunity to participate in training with them and the Company men. The five displayed a level of skill and precision that would be impressive to view in grown warriors. It was extraordinary to see it in these intelligent, powerful but very young creatures of magic.

"Yes," Brienne agreed, hugging Serdun. "They are, indeed."

Serdun endured her embrace until Griff came up to them. Then the dragon shrugged out of her arms and leapt to him. Serdun landed on his shoulders and squawked to the other dragons. Griff easily absorbed the dragon's weight and grinned up at it. The injured dragon, independent by nature, stood proudly on its father's shoulders even as it disdained to cuddle in its mother's arms

"Sȳrī gaomagon, zaldrīzoti," Griff's commanding voice carried easily to the other dragons. "Sȳrī gaomagon."

The dragons shrieked and cried out at the praise. Serdun spread its wings and rose, tall and strong. Its orange markings blended with Griff's sigil on his jacket, almost merging them into a single fierce creature. The other four dragons flew across the field to join them, eager to share in their father's approval.

Brienne sighed and suppressed the dull ache of jealousy as she watched the dragons interact with the blood of the dragon. Logically she knew the five weren't favoring Griff over her. They needed activity and were clearly thrilled to return to training with the men. Their flapping wings created a steady draft and their joyful cries drowned out all other voices. She understood training gave them security, structure and discipline. As with any child, their routine allowed them to master new skills and receive praise for their hard work and efforts. Griff was simply doing what any father would do to instill discipline in his children. It didn't matter that his children were dragons.

Other Company men were also training in the remains of the tourney grounds. The footsteps of the Westerlands armies had barely faded before the _Golden Company_ took to the field. The dragonglass-strewn grounds between the Blackwater Bay and the burnt remains of the Kingsroad were alive with activity. Men were broken into groups, each focused on working with different weapons: various length swords, mace, dirk, cudgel, and spear.

She and Podrick weren't the only ones watching the training sessions. Merchants and visitors gathered at the Gate of the Gods, ships idled the bay and citizens clustered in groups outside the King's Gate. Company men mingled with the Gold Cloaks to guard the market and the gates. Above her head, a group of archers were poised on the battlement, ready to defend them from above. Griff and the dragons were only seconds away but the five hadn't focused on training until they were sure she was safe. From the moment they'd come back to her, the dragons had put her safety above all matters. It was Griff's diligent training that had taught them to guard her, to protect their family. She shouldn't feel jealousy because he took their training seriously.

"Men, we go again," Griff announced, drawing her attention back to the training field.

The men nodded and went back to their positions. Griff ordered the dragons up to Podrick on the battlement. He waited for them to leap up from the ground before he turned to her and smiled. Around them, Brienne heard gasps of delight and amazement from their audience. The citizens seemed to appreciate the dragons' performance just as much as she did.

"What do you think?" Griff asked her.

"I think they're wonderful." She looked longingly at the men striding back to their positions. "I wish I could train with you. Then I'd be of more help."

"You are helping," Griff assured her. "Usually, I'm their center. I can't properly critique their technique while in the middle of the formation. Watching them from a distance lets me see their strengths and weaknesses."

"I didn't see any weaknesses," she defended her dragons instantly. "They were flawless."

Griff laughed. "Spoken like a true mother. It's hard to find fault in those we love. I saw an issue in the way they lose speed when they turn. They hesitate. Where's Lord Loth? He needs to watch so we can rework this approach."

"One of the officers called him away. I think he's near the Gate of the Gods." Brienne turned her head to look.

She didn't see Serjeant but she did see Varys hurrying towards them. That was surprising given that he was normally calm and even-paced. Now he seemed harried, his mouth pressed into a firm line and his features tense. His hands were tucked into his sleeves as usual and his newly growing silver hair reflecting the sunlight. Griff also saw the former Master of Whispers. Brienne rose from the barrel, ignoring the discomfort in her feet, to meet the Spider. Above them, the dragons cried out and leapt down to join them.

"Lord Varys, what news?" Griff demanded.

Despite his obvious anxiety, Varys took a few seconds to bob a quick bow to his king. "Your Grace, my Lady Ser."

Griff waved away the obeisance. "You look troubled, Lord Varys. What is it?"

Varys's face was set and serious. "A raven arrived from Lord Selwyn, your Grace. He says what you seek has been found."

A jolt passed through Brienne, like the one she'd felt when she first touched _Lightning_, the sword of House Dondarrion. Her heart began to pound and her breathing became audible. She and Griff exchanged tense glances. Griff had instructed her father to dig up the courtyard outside her birthing chambers. They were seeking the cause of the fire that had raged the night she'd been born. Brienne was sure the object was a piece of a shooting star, the mate to _Dawn_, the sword of the stars. She'd prayed they'd soon have a weapon equal to the power of the Night King. Had her father found it?

Was the key to defeating the Army of the Dead almost within their grasp?

**Author's Note:** I'm sorry I didn't post this chapter last night. There was a section that simply didn't flow properly, no matter how many times I rewrote it. I'll try again and incorporate it in a later chapter. *Sigh* I miss having a beta.

Finally, I cut those three pages so I could get this chapter out. I hope it's not too rough and choppy. Please let me know if I need to make corrections.

Anyway, how was the chapter? What do you think is the importance of Arthur Dayne's final words to Brienne? Did anyone re-watch the Tower of Joy scene and now understand the clue? It will be explained but not for several chapters.

Next up…FINALLY, we'll go to Dragonstone and I'll explain the significance of those darn swirly symbols!


	55. Beach Keeper

The Keeper

Chapter 55 – Beach Keeper

Brienne nearly vibrated as she sat in the council chambers rereading her father's message. Griff was seated at his usual place at the head of the table, his attention on the maps laid out before him. Ned sat at his left, also concentrating on the maps. Tyrion sat on Griff's right, busily writing notes on his parchment, with Varys beside him. Serjeant leaned back in his chair at the opposite end of the table. The new Lord Loth was relaxed as he waited for Griff to speak. Podrick sat at Brienne's side, quiet and still, in contrast to her nervous energy.

"My father writes that there's a complication. He wants me to come to Tarth." Brienne looked up from reading the scroll.

Ned studied the paper when she passed it to him. "What complication?"

Varys shook his head. "We don't know, my Lord. All we have is what's in this scroll. No other ravens have arrived from Tarth but this one."

"Ravens can be intercepted," Tyrion interjected. "Your father was wise not to reveal too much in a scroll."

"Intercepted?" Serjeant snorted. "Are you saying the dead can now read?"

Tyrion flushed but kept his composure. "The dead are not our only enemies, Lord Loth. There are those who oppose House Targaryen and even a unified Westeros. They would be interested in anything that could possibly give them an advantage."

"I should leave for Tarth immediately." Brienne pushed her chair away from the table. "We must have this weapon as soon as possible."

Griff continued to study his map. "Calm yourself, Brienne. We're preparing to travel to Tarth."

Brienne took a deep breath and fought to be patient. She wanted to leave the tourney grounds and set off for Tarth immediately upon hearing the news. Griff had disagreed and ordered the council members to join him for a planning session. How could he be so calm and detached? A powerful weapon was nearly within their grasp and he chose to play politics.

"I don't need an escort, your Grace," she insisted. "Podrick and I can go on our own. We're experienced travelers and will move faster without the nuisance."

She glanced at Podrick for support. His eyes widened and he turned to look towards the dragons. The five were at the usual place beside the windows, soaking in the midday sun. Catren, Allwyn and Gallan were taking well-deserved naps after their morning's training. Ardayn and Serdun, while also enjoying the warmth, were awake and alert. Podrick's gaze shifted from the dragons to Griff, who had gone rigid.

"Nuisance?" Griff finally looked up from his papers. "Brienne, an armed escort isn't a nuisance. It's a necessity. You can't go anywhere on your own. Where you go, dragons follow."

The tense energy that had pulled her nerves taunt suddenly broke. Stillness came over her as she turned her head to the windows. The dragons were draped over the table and sofa, wings spread to absorb the warm sunshine. He was right. The last time she'd traveled without the dragons was when she'd left them on Dragonstone in her father's care. Even then, the five had come to King's Landing to defend her after the horror of the captured Wight.

Brienne looked back to him. "They've stayed with you before."

Griff nodded in agreement. "Yes, when they were so small, I could hold them in my hands. Now, they've gone into battle to protect you. They'll never willingly leave your side. Nor do I expect them to. The dragons and I are going with you."

Tyrion sat up straight in his chair. "You're leaving the capitol with Lady Ser Brienne? Who'll be in charge?"

Griff narrowed his eyes. "You have another opportunity to display your leadership skills, Lord Tyrion. But rest assured, you won't carry the burden alone. My men are here to guard the city while Lord Loth, Lord Salladhor, Ser Balon and Lady Tanda have their own responsibilities. Your work must continue."

A knock on the door interrupted him. It opened to allow Tanda and Salladhor to enter. Tanda sunk into a quick, shallow curtsey then crossed to join the others at the table. Salladhor remained at the door, his eyebrows raised as he looked over at Griff. The former pirate smirked then swept into a deep bow, complete with hand flourishes and downcast eyes. Serjeant, seated closest to him, snorted at his performance.

"Lord Salladhor, as much as I appreciate your deference, we don't have time for your theatrics. How long will it take for the _Sea Keeper _to reach Evenfall Hall?" Griff snapped.

Salladhor straightened and sauntered over to the table. "Six days with favorable winds and full sails, your Grace."

"How quickly can it be ready to sail?" Griff demanded.

Salladhor stiffened, scowling. "The ships in the _Golden Fleet_ are always ready. The _Sea Keeper_, the _Valyrian_ and the _Bird of a Thousand Colors_ can sail at a moment' notice."

"The _Sea Keeper_ will be fine," Serjeant assured. "It's smaller and faster. The Blackwater Bay and the waters near Tarth are patrolled by loyal forces. Speed is more important than a powerful warship."

"Why are we travelling by ship instead of riding through the Kingswood?" Brienne asked. She ran her finger down the map from the capitol to the Straits of Tarth. "The Kingsroad will take us to Storm's End. Then we can cross by ship to Tarth in half a day. That will be faster than sailing north through the bay then down the Narrow Sea."

"The ship can travel at night," Salladhor reminded her. "It will cover more than twice the distance in the same amount of time. We don't need to stop to make or break camp for one hundred men, either."

Brienne paused to study the map then nodded in reluctant agreement. That was reasonable. The larger a group became, the longer it took them to travel. More men and more horses needed to be fed, rested, sheltered and managed. Plus, a larger group attracted unwanted attention, especially a group that traveled with dragons.

"A ship is also easier for the dragons," Serjeant pointed out. "You don't need to make special provisions for them. They can swim and fish as they please and rest when they don't."

"And we'll stop at Dragonstone," Griff added.

"Dragonstone?" Tyrion became rigid. "Queen Daenerys has claimed Dragonstone. Her forces hold it in her name."

"I won't take it from her," Griff assured. "I want to see it for myself. It might help me understand what Rhaegar saw there that turned him into the man he became."

"Rhaegar?" Tyrion frowned. "I've been to Dragonstone. Nothing of Rhaegar's remains there. Stannis Baratheon destroyed all signs of the House Targaryen after King Robert gave him the island."

"Not all of them. The wall carvings, the gargoyles, the cave drawings, the painted table, even some furniture with dragon carvings are still there." Podrick reminded him.

"Lord Tyrion, send a raven to Dragonstone. Inform them of our arrival," Griff ordered. "They can assign as many guards as they wish to monitor our visit. I only want to see what's there."

Tyrion added a note to his parchment. "The Queen's guards are already acquainted with Lady Ser Brienne and her dragons from their last visit. A _short_ stay will be acceptable."

Brienne didn't miss how Tyrion emphasized _short_. Griff's gaze bore into Daenerys's Hand but he chose to not to make an issue of it. Beside him, Ned looked from Tyrion to Griff, brows furrowed and a faint frown on his handsome face.

"I feel I've missed something. What are you searching for at Dragonstone?" Ned looked to Brienne. "What is the value?"

"We attended a meeting there with Daenerys, Jon Snow and their advisors there. The intention was to prepare for parlay with Cersei but we discussed many things. My father told us how Rhaegar was a changed man after a visit to the island," Brienne explained. "Rhaegar found something there that affected him deeply. So deeply that he came back to King's Landing and immersed himself in studying scrolls. When he emerged from his study, he decided he had to become a warrior. We hope his Grace might be able to identify what caused Rhaegar's change, if it still exists."

Ned frowned. "How? Lord Tyrion says none of Rhaegar's personal effects remain. What do you expect to find at Dragonstone?"

Brienne sighed. "His Grace has studied everything he could find on the previous Long Night, the history of House Targaryen and the known dragons. My hope is that something on the island will match previous information or allow him to understand what's already there in a new way."

"The same occurred when you laid your sword on the table next to _Bright Star_ and _Lightning, _my Lord," Podrick added helpfully. "Seeing the swords together allowed my Lady Ser to understand the true value of the saltwater priest's words. She was given the information months ago but didn't understand it until it was presented visually. Thus, a new weapon is almost in our hands."

"I see." Ned nodded but continued to frown.

His frown faded when there was another knock at the door. Balon entered and bowed quickly before joining the group.

"Forgive me for being so tardy, your Grace." Balon slid into the chair beside Salladhor.

"You're not tardy," Griff assured. "Lady Ser Brienne is impatient so we've already begun. She, Lord Ned, Lord Varys and I are leaving for Tarth this afternoon. Lord Selwyn has found what we've been searching for."

Balon nodded gravely. "That's good news. A powerful new weapon to battle the Army of the Dead is most welcome."

"There's a complication," Brienne explained. "My father's scroll didn't say what it was but he asked me to come immediately."

Balon nodded then looked past her to the dragons. "The people have become accustomed to the dragons. They're afraid of them but the dragons have provided protection and hope. Most will be sad to see them go."

Griff followed his gaze and smiled fondly at the five. "Yes, they've proven to be great warriors during our first battle against the Army of the Dead. They won't leave us unprotected nor will they separate from each other. They know we're strongest when we're together. That means Lady Ser Brienne and I must travel together. A sea route, along well-guarded waterways, is the safest approach."

"Why are we stopping at Dragonstone on the way to Tarth?" Brienne demanded. "We must seize this weapon, immediately. Why can't we visit Dragonstone once the weapon is safely within our hands?"

"The weapon is safe," Serjeant insisted. "The Straits of Tarth, Storm's End and Evenfall Hall are guarded by the _Golden Company_. It's expected that whole armies protect the king's guardian and the father of the dragons' keeper. It raises no suspicions among those watching to have them, and their homes, heavily guarded."

"The weapon is safer on Tarth, where hundreds protect it, than it is on water," Salladhor added. "At sea, the enemy can nullify the weapon simply by sinking the ship carrying it."

"What will that do?" Podrick asked. "Sinking the ship won't give an enemy the weapon. It would be lost with the ship."

"It means we wouldn't have it, either," Griff explained. "Sometimes in war, denying an enemy's victory can be as powerful as an outright defeat."

"If you can't have it, the other side can't have it, either?" Podrick summarized hesitantly.

"Exactly." Griff's voice was tight and grim. "Remember our objective is greater than just finding this weapon. We're trying to save all of Westeros, and even the whole world. Simply having this weapon isn't enough. We need a strategy, a plan, to fight the Night King. A single sword, no matter how powerful isn't enough to defeat the entire Army of the Dead. We need to know what Rhaegar knew, or believed. If Dragonstone holds the key, we must find it."

.***.

Two days later, Brienne stood with Varys and Ned on the long walkway that led from the beach to the castle at Dragonstone. Catren, Allwyn and Gallan shrieked and flew in dizzying circles above their heads. The cold waters and wide-open area carried a distinct chill, despite the bright sunshine. Brienne shivered in the strong winds, a warning of winter yet to come. King's Landing, with its high walls, tight spaces, constant activity, and overcrowded streets was soaked in heat and tension. Dragonstone, in stark contrast, was silent and imposing. Only a few dozen Dothraki, a handful of Unsullied and less than a score of servants occupied the enormous space.

Down on the beach, a pair of skiffs were pulled high onto the sand, safely out of the reach on the rising afternoon tide. A small group of Company men stood guard near the boats. They'd been met by a group of bloodriders, who stood only yards away, matching them man for man. Though both sides were armed, neither side drew their weapons or displayed tension. Their heads turned to follow the dragons instead of their opponents. Brienne understood their reluctance to interact. They were neither friends nor foes. Though they answered to different rulers, they'd all pledged themselves to the house of the dragons. The forces of Daenerys Targaryen stood across from the forces of Aegon Targaryen under the watchful eyes of living dragons.

Further out in the water, the _Sea Keeper_ bounced on the gently rolling waves. The men stood to attention on deck, keeping watch on both Dragonstone and the Narrow Sea. The sigil of Aegon Martell Targaryen flapped in the sharp wind, reinforcing the division in House Targaryen. Griff had the bloodline to carry the three-headed dragon standard. But he also embraced his mother's heritage, joining the dragon with the burning sun of House Nymeros Martell.

Even the sound of the howling wind and the crashing waves couldn't drown out the dragons' cries. Gallan burst out of the sea in a spray of salt water. The blue dragon settled on the _Sea Keeper's _mast rope. It tossed fish into the air and roasted it as it fell into its open mouth. Below the dragon, some of the crew whistled and called out encouragement. Soaring far above, Catren kept watch on the beach as Allwyn flew in circles over Brienne, Varys and Ned.

"The dragons are happy to be here," Ned noted, nodding to the _Sea Keeper_.

"Yes, they are," Brienne agreed, following his gaze. "There's so much here to explore and do. Gallan is a natural adventurer, eager to try everything. Catren and Allwyn are attention seekers. They don't need to perform perfectly as long as they're praised for their efforts."

Ned laughed. "I noticed they have distinct personalities. These three are exuberant and playful while the other two are more serious."

Brienne nodded. "Ardayn and Serdun are stubborn and independent. They prefer to learn from observation and practice. But they were as excited as these three when we docked earlier."

Varys looked back at the large, looming castle. "They have happy memories being here. This is where they were reunited with you, my Lady Ser. I remember how sad and gloomy that day was. We were all in shock over the death of Daenerys's dragon. Then these five arrived. It was almost as if they brought the sun with them."

"It must have been quite traumatic," Ned agreed.

"It was." Brienne recalled that day, the heavy gloom hanging over Dragonstone after Viserion's death, before the young dragons found her. "Their arrival lifted us all. Daenerys had gone north of the Wall with Jon Snow to fight the Night King. She thought it would be so simple. Her dragons would easily burn the dead. Then the Night King speared Viserion and everything changed. The unstoppable Dragon Queen had been stopped. The Night King had magic and a weapon that killed a dragon. He knew how to counter her greatest strength."

"She must have been devastated," Ned murmured. "Both of my parents were lost to the sleeping sickness several years ago. I was already squire to Lord Beric by then. He kept me especially busy after that. I was grateful because my heart ached when I was unoccupied. It was a long time before I could look back on their passing without grief."

Brienne studied the young Lord of Starfall. She was shocked to realize this was her first direct conversation with Griff's cousin. Ned seemed like a soft echo of Griff, with his matching silver blond hair, indigo eyes, and fine features. His quiet, calm manner, willingness to follow orders and easy loyalty sometimes made him fade into Griff's shadow. Ned Dayne didn't belong in the shadows. He was an important figure, critical to the future of House Dayne and Dorne. Other than his Aunt Allyria, he was the sole heir to Starfall, the house that guarded _Dawn_.

Ned looked at her expectantly, the sun making his refined, handsome face glow. Though they were talking of sad events, there was no darkness in his eyes. The Lord of Starfall had made peace with his losses. Varys's expression didn't alter. The Spider had been on his own his entire life. He'd mourned his losses a long time ago. It took Brienne a few seconds to suppress her own sadness and pick up the threads of their conversation.

"I'm sorry for your loss, Lord Ned," she consoled. "I lost my mother and my brother when I was young, too. It takes a terrible toll on you. Just as losing Viserion was a terrible blow to Daenerys. All of Dragonstone was shrouded in gloom, inside and out. We worried for Daenerys until the young dragons arrived. They brought renewed life, hope and energy. Daenerys was still heartbroken but they helped her see beyond her loss."

Ned nodded. "These five are the future of House Targaryen."

"No," Varys insisted firmly. "King Aegon is the future of House Targaryen. I regret that I didn't understand that sooner. Perhaps if I had, things would have turned out differently."

"Regrets are of no value, Lord Varys," Brienne insisted. "The Gods have a greater plan at work that we can understand. Events had to happen as they did for King Aegon to become the new _Sword of the Morning_."

She explained to them what she'd explained to Griff in King's Landing's Godswood. Men fought for titles and territories while the Gods focused on saving humanity itself. Events had to occur as they had for Griff to become the prince who was promised to bring the _Dawn_.

Her explanation seemed to comfort Varys, whose expression eased. Ned, however, seemed more disturbed. His purple eyes darkened and his mouth pulled down at the corners.

"If _Dawn_ is so important to the fate of humanity, then why not spare my uncle?" Ned questioned. "Ser Arthur was the greatest swordsman in the world. Even Prince Aegon, who has fought with _Dawn_, acknowledges that my uncle was the finest swordsman who ever lived. Arthur Dayne had no equal."

"Actually, Lord Ned, he did have an equal," Varys disagreed gently.

Ned scowled. "Jaime Lannister? You jest, Lord Varys. Even with both sword hands, even with two swords, the Kingslayer will never be my uncle's equal." Ned turned to her. "I'm sorry, Lady Ser Brienne. I know Ser Jaime is your friend. I mean no disrespect."

"I took none," Brienne assured him. "Ser Jaime idolized your uncle. He freely admits Ser Arthur was the greatest knight in Westeros."

"Ser Barristan Selmy," Varys said quietly. "I had the honor of watching Ser Barristan train with Ser Arthur. It was mesmerizing to see them. They elevated sword fighting to an art. Each stroke, each turn, every thrust was perfect. Aerys, before his descent into madness, used to say he was glad they were both his Kingsguards. He said if they turned on each other, the battle would never end. They were so evenly matched in speed, strength and skill that only _Dawn_ would make Ser Arthur the victor."

Ned's expression tightened even more. "But my uncle still died. The greatest swordsman and the renowned _Sword of the Morning_ died in single combat against an inferior opponent. Why was that?"

"Because _Dawn_ wasn't needed then," Brienne explained quietly. "King Aegon is young, fast and strong. Ser Arthur, were he still alive today, would be in his middle years, no longer as fast or as strong as he was in his prime."

Ned frowned as he considered her words. A screech from the castle distracted him. They turned to see Ardayn and Serdun emerge from the main hall with Griff and Podrick exiting below them. They were followed by a group of Unsullied, who remained at the doors. Gallan and Allwyn left the sea to join them. Serdun and Ardayn waited until they were over Griff before heading out to the water and their own midday meals. Catren remained over Brienne as Griff and Podrick came down the walk to join them.

"Did you find anything?" Brienne asked hopefully.

Griff grimaced. "Most items of House Targaryen have been removed from the castle. Other than the new banners, very few signs of the dragons exist."

Podrick held up his collection of drawings, which he had carefully rolled and secured with a leather cord. "I was able to arrange my sketches in order by rooms and add more details."

"I'm sorry your search was unsuccessful, your Grace." Varys, his expression placid as usual, tucked his hands into his sleeves. "Still, it was good we took the time to stop. The dragons are enjoying their visit."

They all looked up. Gallan and Allwyn were full of energy, swooping through the sky and crying out with pleasure. Serdun and Ardayn were already enjoying their midday snacks as Catren flew high above them all.

"How were you able to calm them when they first arrived?' Griff asked. "Even Allwyn doesn't want to come down. They're almost delirious with joy."

"They know they're safe here." Podrick grinned up to the sky. "The first day, they didn't even try to protect my Lady Ser. They landed and threw themselves at her. We had to coax them away so she could stand."

"Drogon and Rhaegal were here, Pod," Brienne reminded him. "The young dragons didn't have to protect me. They knew we were safe."

"True." Podrick shifted his grin to her. "Still, we had a difficult time separating them from you. We had to carry them to take them inside. I was terrified when Serdun landed on my shoulders for the first time. I thought it would burn me for sure."

"Father picked up Allwyn and didn't have any trouble. Serdun wouldn't have gone to you if it didn't know you were bonded to me, just as my father was." Brienne scowled. "Podrick, I would never put you in harm's way."

"I know, my Lady Ser, but it was still frightening," Podrick defended himself. "Lord Selwyn is the dragons' grandfather. Queen Daenerys is their grandmother. They share the dragons' blood. Even King Jon had a magical connection while I had nothing."

"Magical connection?" Ned repeated. "Jon Snow held a dragon?"

"Yes, my Lord." Podrick turned to face the Lord of Starfall. "The dragons took to him immediately. Ardayn flew into his arms that first day. All of them allowed him to stroke them. In fact, there was one occasion when Catren demanded his attention."

Griff stiffened and looked back up at the brown dragon flying above them. Of all five, Catren was the most like Griff in temperament and behavior. Both were born to lead and commanded attention. Brienne recalled her twinge of jealousy when the dragons were training with Griff and the _Golden Company_. She could easily understand Griff feeling the same twinge hearing Catren had demanded attention from someone else.

"How can that be?" Ned's eyes widened. "I thought the dragons only allowed those who shared blood or bond to hold them. Lord Tyrion has befriended the dragons but he's never attempted to touch them. How was the Bastard of Winterfell able to hold dragons?"

"King Jon has a magical companion of his own, a direwolf," Podrick explained innocently. "That must be why the dragons took to him so easily. Perhaps magical creatures are able to sense other magical bonds."

"Perhaps," Ned agreed but his eyes remained shadowed.

"Are we leaving for Tarth now?" Brienne demanded impatiently. "The sooner we have the weapon, the sooner we can devise a strategy to use it."

"But we haven't gone into the cave," Podrick protested.

"What's in the cave?" Ned asked.

"Drawings carved into the walls and even the ceiling," Varys answered. "To me, they looked like useless swirls. Jon Snow was convinced they were left by the Children of the Forest. He said the carvings showed how they joined with the First Men to defeat their common enemy, the Others."

"Drawings left by the Children of the Forest or the First Men might be interesting to see," Griff raised his expressive eyebrows. "Perhaps Dragonstone's secret is in its cave and not its castle. How do we get to the cave entrance?"

"The entrance is among the rocks just past the beach," Podrick explained. "It's only a short way away from the skiffs. We should try to enter before sundown. Once the tide comes in, the path into the cave becomes treacherous."

"Lead on, Pod." Griff gestured with his hand.

Podrick held his drawings close to his chest as he led their group back down the walkway to the beach. Brienne pressed her lips together and suppressed her sigh. She knew information was a power. It needed to be gathered and managed, just like any other tool. Visiting Dragonstone had been her idea in the first place. The possibility of learning more about Rhaegar's thought process, to understand why the former Prince of Dragonstone had done what he did, seemed a reasonable step. Then they'd received confirmation of the weapon on Tarth. Now any delay strained her already taunt nerves.

Yes, information was a power but it wasn't one she didn't know how to wield well. A weapon, a sword sharp enough to cut through armor, was something she knew how to use. It was all she knew how to do well. She didn't have a head for politics, a heart for diplomacy or a face for court intrigue. She did, however, have a hand for a sword and a body for fighting. That was the kind of power she understood.

Griff did have the head, the heart, and the beauty for life at court. He was also far more patient and methodical than she was. He knew how to wait for the right moment and use it to his best advantage. Information didn't always have value in the short term. Knowledge collected over time not only accumulated, it sometimes paid dividends. As he often told her, understanding the past was the key to understanding the future.

_Those who didn't learn from history were taught by it_.

He meant that those who didn't learn from the mistakes of others were doomed to repeat those same mistakes. He'd walked her through previous wars, from Aegon's Conquest to the War of the Five Kings, explaining how each battle was won or lost. She recalled their conversation in the Throne Room with the Dornish lords after Griff first claimed _Dawn_.

"_History repeats. Human nature doesn't change, but it does adjust to changing circumstances. Just as the moon goes through phases, so does human history. Understanding the past gives us clues to understanding the future."_

"_Did you learn something new, your Grace?" Brienne demanded eagerly. "Do you know how to end the Long Night?"_

"_No," Griff admitted. "There was very little true information. We know the previous Long Night did end and the Night's Watch was created to guard the realms of men. Therefore, there is a way to defeat the Army of the Dead. The details were not in any of the scrolls I studied but we still have other avenues of research."_

The time Griff spent now, studying the few original Targaryen artifacts left on Dragonstone, might prove useful in the future. She need only be patient for a short time longer. Then they would travel to Tarth, to claim a power she did understand.

They finally arrived at the mouth of the cave. A group of Unsullied waited at the cave entrance, holding unlit torches. Just beyond the entrance was a brazier alight with a bright, crackling fire. The cave opening was massive, allowing them to enter two abreast. Catren and Allwyn flew ahead of them. Their dragonfire illuminated the dark recesses as they waited for the others to catch up with them. Griff accepted a torch from a blank-faced warrior.

"Kirimvose," Griff murmured and dipped the torch into the fire.

Brienne nodded to a guard as he handed her a torch, too. She repeated the thanks and followed Griff into the main room. Half the Unsullied guards followed them but remained silent. Ned. Podrick and Varys joined them but weren't offered torches of their own. Brienne suspected the guards did so deliberately. Limiting their light forced them to stay together and made the visitors easier to control. Of course, that only applied to the humans. The dragons made their own light.

"This is where Jon Snow found all the dragonglass," Podrick informed them. "He believed this was the dragons' nest when previous generations of Targaryens lived here."

Griff turned in a full circle, holding his torch high to illuminate as much of the carnivorous space as it could. Around him, everyone else did the same. The ceiling was so high above them that their lights didn't reach the top. Ardayn and Gallan helped by flying higher and lighting up the ceiling with their dragonfire. A heavy silence pressed down on them as the thick walls absorbed the sound of the wind and the waves. It was also significantly cooler deeper inside the rock formation, away from the sun.

"I don't see any carvings," Ned noted, walking closer to the nearest wall.

"That chamber is further along," Varys explained. "It's also much smaller. We suspect that's why the carvings are undisturbed. The previous dragons were too large to fit into that cave."

"Shall I take you there?" Podrick asked eagerly.

Griff nodded and handed his torch to Podrick. Her squire smiled proudly then began to walk deeper into the darkness. The rest of them, including the silent Unsullied guards, followed the pair. After a few minutes of careful walking across the uneven floor, they emerged in the smaller cave. The young dragons flew in ahead of them, then settled quietly, looking around as if they were interested in the carvings, too.

The guards stood just outside the smaller chamber, leaving them with only the light from Podrick and Brienne's torches. This cave was small enough that the light bounced off the ceiling and illuminated the drawings. As Brienne remembered, the walls and the ceiling were covered in carved symbols. She stopped near the entrance and passed her torch over to Ned. He followed Griff to stand in the center of the room, near the dragons. Varys chose to remain with her while Podrick and Ned held the torches high, allowing Griff to study the space.

The odd collection of circles, swirls and a few human figures glowed from the shadows. It was almost as if they had their own light. Suddenly, Brienne remembered her dream of Jaime inside of a dark, chilly cave, surrounded by the insubstantial outlines of his Kingsguard brothers and the Prince of Dragonstone. Involuntarily, her gaze went to _Dawn_ hanging from Griff's sword belt. As it had done in her cave dream, _Dawn_ glowed.

"Your Grace," she gasped. "Your sword!"

Griff looked down. Ned jerked away as Griff removed his sword. Unlike in her dream, where _Dawn_ had pierced the ground, Griff held the sword of the stars over his head. Absorbing the muted light from the torches, _Dawn_ cast its magical light through the chamber. The carvings, which had been a pale gold, now glowed milky-white. Griff drew his breath in on a harsh gasp.

"It's here!" he exclaimed, turning in a circle, as if trying to take it all in at once.

Brienne reached for her own sword, an instinctive gesture of protection. "What's here, your Grace?"

"What Rhaegar saw. It's here. It's been here all this time." Griff lowered _Dawn_ and smiled at her. "I know Rhaegar's secret."

Brienne tightened her grip on her sword pommel but she didn't draw her weapon. She knew it would do no good to match steel, even Valyrian steel, against ghosts and secrets. Rhaegar had died long ago but his legacy reverberated throughout Westeros. His actions had triggered a terrible war and the near-destruction of House Targaryen. The realm still suffered to this day for his actions.

Were they about to find out what had led Rhaegar to his choices?

**Author's Note:**__ I had planned to explain the significance the swirly symbols in this chapter. I tried to explain the symbols using descriptions but it didn't make sense. I need to show the images for readers to understand them. However, it's hard to link all the images I need. I'll work on that this week.

I still am working without my beta readers. Please let me know if I need to make corrections.

So…what do you think is Rhaegar's secret? What was it about those cave drawings that turned Rhaegar into the man he became?


	56. Cave Keeper

The Keeper

Chapter 56 – Cave Keeper

**Note: **Fanfiction doesn't allow me to post images or links in my story. However, this chapter is easier to understand with images. I stored all the images on Imgur. Remove the spaces to see the images.

.***.

There was a moment of extended silence as everyone looked around the cave, taking in the odd carvings decorating the walls and even the ceiling. Everyone except for the Unsullied guards who were more focused on the swords in their visitor's hands. The six men stood in a tight cluster near the entrance and glared at _Dawn_ held aloft in Griff's hands.

"Ao kostagon't emagon nykeā egros kesīr," one of the guards growled.

Brienne looked from Griff to the guards. She knew 'egros' meant sword in High Valyrian. The frowns on the guards faces made it clear they objected to their aggressive actions. Drawing their swords during their supposedly friendly visit wasn't an act of friendship. She released her grip on _Dark Sister_ and forced her body to relax. Griff nodded to the guards and sheathed his sword. Immediately, the cave darkened without _Dawn's_ milky light. The carvings lost their eerie glow and returned to mellow gold as the torch light bounced off the walls.

"Nyke gōntan epagon ao eptan. īlon jorrāelagon tolī ōños." Griff's voice was firm and commanding.

Brienne turned to face the guards, unsure of what Griff had said. The guards looked at each other as they considered Griff's words. Then they looked around at the dragons. The five, who had been wandering around the cave, came back to join them. Varys leaned closer to Brienne.

"King Aegon asked them to provide more light, now that he cannot use _Dawn_ to illuminate the cave," the spider explained. "I think the guards are uncomfortable entering the cave while the dragons are here."

Brienne studied the dragons in the meager light. They were all calm, settling on the cave floor, no longer interested in their surroundings. The five hadn't behaved defensively at any time during their visit. They had guarded them since their arrival on Dragonstone but were easily distracted by exploring and fishing. The dragons didn't sense a threat from the Dothraki on the beach or from the Unsullied with them. Could the five be coaxed to leave the chamber? She remembered the command Griff had given them when the Dornish lords had tried to take _Dawn_ from him.

"Sōvegon, zaldrīzoti," Brienne urged. "Nykeōragon ilagon,"

The dragons looked from her to the Unsullied guards, then over to Griff. He nodded and smiled at them in encouragement. The guards, while still alert, relaxed their stances and exchanged glances. The dragons squawked and rose from the floor. She'd assured them the guards were not a threat. More importantly, the five sensed the Unsullied's intent. The guards stepped back from the entrance to allow the dragons to fly past them. The dragons rose higher and released their fire as they flew around in the larger, open main cave. Their squawks echoed along the walls and bounced off the high ceiling, filling the space with their joyful cries.

Once the dragons were occupied with their play, Brienne turned back to face the guards. The Unsullied looked at each other then separated into sets. Two guards remained outside the cave, facing the dragons and any possible attack. Two guards took positions just inside the cave but held their torches high, adding their light to the space. The final two guards came to the center of the room to join them. They looked to Griff for direction. Griff indicated for them to stand on opposite ends, so that the torch light was more evenly dispersed in the space.

Brienne frowned and moved to stand beside Ned in the center of the chamber. Now that the cave was better illuminated, the carvings became even more confusing. All around her were images of circles and swirls, a few human figures and random wavy lines. Varys pressed his hands together under his sleeves and looked to Griff. Podrick turned to Brienne, his expression uncertain. Ned turned in a full circle then stopped and shook his head.

"I don't understand," Ned admitted. "All I see are crude designs. I can accept they were drawn by children but I can't find any meaning in them."

Griff chuckled. "That's because you're looking at everything at once. That's how I would have looked at it, too, until I started building the _Golden Fleet_. That taught me to look at the sky as a map, and find anchoring points, as a sailor would."

Brienne also looked around. "I am a sailor. I've been on the sea and I don't understand, either."

Griff's smile deepened, spreading to his eyes, making them glitter in the torch light. "Brienne, if you were traveling at night, without a road or familiar landmarks to guide you, how would you find your way?"

"I'd use the stars to guide me," she answered instantly.

"How?" Griff prompted.

"I'd look for the Ice Dragon," Brienne said. "The dragon's blue eye points north. The stars in the dragon's tail points south. That would—"

She stopped speaking, realizing what she'd just said. Varys, Ned and Podrick all turned to look at her, too. The guards, seeing their startled expressions, held their torches higher and looked around uneasily.

"Jurnegon syt se Suvion Zaldrīzes," Griff said quietly. "Ignore all the other carving and look for the Ice Dragon."

The Ice Dragon was a constellation of stars seen in the north in Westeros. Its blue eye was one of the brightest stars in the night sky. Even travelers on land used it to gauge direction. Everyone looked at each other in silent shock, even the guards.

Then one of them pointed. "Konīr ziry iksos!"

Brienne didn't need to know High Valyrian to understand the excitement in his voice. Her gaze tracked the path of his finger. She drew in her breath on a shocked gasp. The mellow torch light reflected brighter on a single design than on any other. She was accustomed to seeing the Ice Dragon run north to south but now it lay west to east. Even so, the arrangement of stars was the same. The dragon's eye was the brightest, followed by three stars that made up the dragon's neck, a smattering of lighter stars to represent the body and the three stars that made up the tail. Brienne walked closer and pointed.

"Beneath the dragon, is that a man watching the sunrise?" she gasped. "A man is watching the Ice Dragon usher in the new dawn."

Imgur gallery / SzDFepf- **Address**

Ned pressed his hand to his forehead as he looked around again. "Now I understand. These carvings are a code. Some of the images are important. Others are only meant to distract and hide the information. But once you know what to look for, then you can ignore the other carvings."

"Correct," Griff agreed. "Now, what is the Ice Dragon looking at? Skoros iksos se Suvion Zaldrīzes jurnegēre rȳ?"

Brienne barely noticed Griff translating his conversation into High Valyrian. She was too busy following the path of the Ice Dragon's eye to the carving jutting out from the next ledge.

"There!" Varys pointed.

Brienne frowned. "It's just a circle and a swirl. What does that mean?"

Imgur gallery / TYUle6M - **Address**

"Brienne," Griff chided gently. "Look carefully at the image. What is coming off the circle?"

She leaned closer to study it better. "Little lines, like rays of the sun. But if that represents the sun, why is there a hole in it?"

"Look at the images around it, Brienne," Griff urged. "What else do you see?"

"A circle with a line through it at the bottom," Brienne tried to hide her frustration. "And more meaningless swirls."

"They're not meaningless," Griff disagreed. "Count them. How many heads are there?"

"Heads?" Brienne turned to look at him.

Griff tapped the sigil over his heart. Her gaze fell to the three-headed dragon holding a spear that pierced the sun. Ned also looked at Griff's sigil then bent down to more closely study the carvings. His mouth fell open.

"The bottom carving isn't a circle with a line through it," Ned announced as he rose to his feet. "It has an extended pole and the top comes to a point. It's a spear. The bottom image is a spear and the top image is a pierced sun."

"And between it is an eight-headed dragon," Griff finished.

Brienne stared at the swirl then looked back at the sigil on Griff's jacket. House Targaryen's sigil honored the three Targaryens who had conquered Westeros and become its king and queens. Their great power hadn't been the brother and sisters, even as united as they were. Targaryen rule had been established by the power of the dragons. Those dragons had burned through all resistance. The living dragons, not the humans, had brought most of Westeros to heel. Was Griff saying only the dragons could defeat the Army of the Dead? If so, how? They'd already lost one dragon to the Night King.

"We don't have eight living dragons," she corrected. "We have only seven; these five, Drogon and Rhaegal."

"A month ago, we had eight," Varys pointed out gently. "We'll have eight again, if the Night King raises Viserion."

Brienne stepped back, as if trying to escape from what she was seeing. "What are you saying? Do you expect the dragons to fly into the Night King or spear the sun? How can this be a battle plan? It makes no sense."

"Brienne." Griff crossed to her and laid his hand on her shoulder. "Remember those times I taught you about past battles? I explained how important it was to learn from the decisions those leaders made, good and bad. Human nature doesn't change. We'll make the same mistakes over and over, unless we learn from other people's experiences."

"_T__hose who didn't learn from history are taught by it," _Brienne recalled. "Yes, I remember. But what does that have to do with carvings drawn over five thousand years ago?"

"Five thousand years ago, the Valyrian Freehold ruled over Essos," Varys reminded her. "And dragons ruled over Valyria. The Targaryens weren't the only family with dragons. They weren't even among the most powerful houses."

Brienne shook her head. "Are you saying these carvings are a record of how the last Long Night ended? They used dragons and speared the sun? How is that possible? The Long Night was a generation without a sun. It's been said children were born, lived and died without ever seeing sunlight."

"That's not what these images show us, my Lady Ser," Podrick interjected quietly. "The spear isn't pointing to the pierced sun. It's pointing to one of the dragon heads. This is warning us that one of the dragons will fall to a spear."

She looked at the image. What Podrick said was true but it wasn't possible. She knew the Gods were guiding them, with words, with dreams, with prophecy. She could accept these carvings were important but to believe they were repeating a failed cycle of war and loss was too much.

"Podrick, listen to yourself." Brienne scowled. "You're saying this all happened before and we're making the same mistakes again. These carvings suggest the previous Long Night ended when dragons came to Westeros."

"Fire is the only thing that can defeat ice, my Lady Ser," Varys pointed out. "If we light a fire under a pot of water, the water burns away."

"The opposite is also true," Brienne insisted. "Pour water on the fire and it is reduced to smoke. The Night King killed Viserion with an ice spear."

"Are you sure it was made of ice?" Griff questioned.

"Viserion was killed north of the Wall," Brienne reminded him. "What else could the Night King use other than—" She stopped herself and looked down at _Dawn_.

_"Ser Arthur allowed me to hold it on several occasions. He even knighted me with _Dawn_. The blade was so sharp it cut through my armor, cloth and skin. I still bear the scars to this day." _

She remembered Jaime telling her how sharp _Dawn_ was. Arthur has left scars on Jamie's shoulders when he'd knighted Jaime with the sword of the stars. He hadn't been trying to hurt Jaime. If Dawn could cut through armor with a light touch, what could it pierce when used with force? In fact, it was such an important point that Jaime's words had even repeated in her wraith dream.

"The Night King's spear is made from the heart of the fallen star." She drew a deep breath. "Ser Jaime said _Dawn_ is sharp enough to cut through armor."

"And sharp enough to cut through a dragon's scales," Podrick finished for her. "That spear is the Night King's _Dawn_."

"Se Suvion Zaldrīzes iksos kesīr tolī." One of the guards, standing at the far end of the cave, pointed to a carving high on the wall. "Ice Dragon."

Everyone, except the guards at the cave entrance, moved to the far side of the chamber where the guard was stationed. Brienne saw the same star formation where he pointed. This Ice Dragon was looking at a group of three human figures with a group of smaller figures above them.

"This is what convinced Jon Snow these carvings were of the children of the forest and the first men," Varys explained. "He thinks the top group is the children and the bottom three are first men."

Imgur gallery / eEulNFV - **Address**

"That's what the casual observer is supposed to think," Griff disagreed. "The clues are hidden and can only be seen by the dragons. The Ice Dragon is staring at the bottom figures. That's what's important. The rest is just there to hide the important clue. Look at what's below the three figures. How many heads does that dragon have?"

Imgur gallery / 7K1iH8g - **Address**

Podrick ran his fingers over the carving. "Seven."

"What's next to the seven-headed dragon?" Griff prompted.

Ned drew in his breath. "A spear piercing the sun. It's the sigil of House Nymeros Martell."

"The seven-headed dragon, the spear that pierces the sun, three warriors," Griff touched each section with light fingers. "And what is that between two figures?"

Podrick leaned closer to look. "A pierced sun."

"You think we need to combine the dragons with the three living children of Queen Rhaella's bloodline and the spear that can pierce the sun." Brienne shook her head. "I still don't understand how we can use this, if it's really true."

Varys tilted his head, as if trying to find another perspective on the images. "I see what you see, your Grace. But I don't understand what Rhaegar saw here. There were no living dragons when Rhaegar was alive."

Griff snorted. "Rhaegar was the Prince of Dragonstone and believed he had a great destiny. Of course, everything was about him."

Brienne saw Griff's eyes harden, even in the flickering light. She knew Griff had a low opinion of the kings, and the men who'd expected to become kings, before him. Those men had believed kingship was their right. They didn't think they had to earn the love and loyalty of their people. She remembered Griff talking about it on the _Sea Keeper_, after the pirate attack.

"_The so-called wise kings were so bloated with their own power, they diminished the magic of the dragons. They forgot kingship is a duty, not a right." _

Griff nodded to the three figures. "Rhaegar used to believe he was the prince who was promised. Then he saw these three figures, the dragons and the pierced sun. This is what convinced him that he would father the three heads of the dragons."

"He saw the carving of the pierced sun and thought it meant House Nymeros Martell, as I did," Ned agreed. "That's when he agreed to marry Princess Elia. He thought the Ice Dragon was looking to the daughter of House Martell to birth the three heads of the dragon."

"He probably thought the birth of his three children would lead to the rebirth of dragons," Varys added. "He expected his children to bring back the magic needed to restore the living dragons."

"Instead, it was his sister who brought back the dragons," Podrick noted.

Brienne nodded then looked at Griff. His face was calm and almost expressionless in the weak lighting. Griff had explained the same theory to her after the pirate attack.

"_I've been told Rhaegar believed a prophecy that said the dragon must have three heads. There were no living dragons at the time, so he took it to mean he should have three children, hopefully all with dragon's blood. Then he died at the Trident and my sister died at the sacking of King's Landing. I hadn't thought much about the prophecy until Daenerys birthed her dragons. We now have three people with the blood of the dragon thus she was able to bring three dragons into the world."_

Varys continued to study the carvings. "What about the other five figures above the three? I see some markings above them."

Griff took the torch from Ned. He held it up over his head to shed light on the carving. A rough pattern of scales appeared and over it, a fearsome head with sharp, bared teeth.

"It's a dragon's head, similar to the ones at the gates to the castle and in the _Chamber of the Painted Table_," Brienne noted. "It's facing east, like the heads on the swirls you say represent the dragons." She looked down at the figures below it. "If these aren't the children of the forest, then who are they?"

Imgur gallery / S2R43qq - **Address**

Griff stepped back and hissed, sounding remarkably like the dragons. The light from his torch bounced around, making the dragon's head seem to move. Brienne turned her head to look back at her king. Griff's features, which had been composed only a few seconds ago, now twisted into a furious scowl. His face flushed such a dark red it was apparent in the weak light. The torch light reflected and even grew fierier in his eyes. His whole body trembled visibly and he curled his hands into fists, as if to control the tremors. She'd had never seen Griff so angry.

"That fool," Griff muttered, "that absolute, _utter_ fool."

"Your Grace?" Podrick looked at Griff uneasily. "Are you alright, your Grace?"

For a few seconds, it seemed that Griff hadn't heard him. He continued to stare at the fearsome dragon head. Then, instead of answering Podrick's question, Griff motioned him closer. Podrick glanced at Brienne, then slowly walked to the king. Griff turned him around and pointed to the wall.

"What do you see, Podrick?" Griff's voice was low and flat, as if he was fighting to hide his emotions.

Again, Podrick glanced at Brienne before turning his gaze obediently at the carvings. "I see a dragon's head facing east, your Grace. Then under it I see five figures. Below those are the three warriors."

"Now, pretend you're Rhaegar, the Prince of Dragonstone and the future King of the Seven Kingdoms. You've believed all your life that you were destined for greatness." Griff nodded to the lower figures, his voice quivering as he fought to keep it even. "You followed the clues you saw in this cave and married Elia Martell. Now you find out your lady wife, weak and heavy with your second child, is unable to birth a third babe. You're convinced you must have that third child to bring the rebirth of dragons. What would you do?"

Brienne was familiar with this technique. Griff used it often when he wanted to bring others to his conclusions. It allowed them to think through the steps and understand his logic. Griff also said it improved their own ability to reason through problems. Even now, when he was fighting for self-control, he continued to build up his people's talents and abilities. She stayed quiet as Podrick frowned in concentration.

Her squire thought for a long moment. "I'd come back to this cave and review the clues. Perhaps I missed a detail or misread the carvings."

"Rhaegar had more concerns than just his children by then," Varys cautioned. "The rumor was that the tourney at Harrenhal was to ploy for the great lords to gather in secret. He intended to convince them to join him in overthrowing Aerys. I…" Varys ducked his head. "I was faithful to my king and told him of the rumors. Aerys attended the tourney and there was no conspiracy."

"No, but there was a scandal," Griff reminded him. "Rhaegar crowned Lyanna Stark the queen of love and beauty instead of my mother, his wife."

Varys nodded. "Yes, Lyanna was there with her brothers, Lord Brandon, Benjen and Ned Stark. They were furious at the gesture and your dear mother was humiliated."

Brienne shuddered. She knew what it was like to be publicly humiliated, to feel the heat of blood flushing her face, to taste the defeat and tears in the back of her throat. She'd grown up knowing she was different because of her size and appearance. Elia, by all accounts, had been the perfect lady and princess; kind, generous, lovely, and feminine. She had even been carrying King Aegon at the time.

"Why would Rhaegar do such a thing?" she asked. "How could he hurt and humiliate his wife like that?"

"He wasn't thinking about his wife." Griff's voice was so controlled it was toneless. "He was only thinking of his destiny. My mother wasn't as important as the great and glorious things he would do. Especially after he came here and misread these carvings."

"Misread?" Brienne repeated. "How could he have possibly misread these carvings? Other than these figures, and a few at the end, these are all just suns and circles."

"Look again at the dragon." Griff walked closer and held up the torch, lighting up the dragon's head. "Rhaegar was determined to have a third child. He used this carving to justify his actions."

They all looked at the dragon's head, even the guards. Griff sighed and stepped away, allowing them all to see the dragon and the five figures below it. Brienne watched Griff, who turned his back to them. Uneasily, Brienne, Ned and Varys exchanged glances. No one disturbed the king. The quiet was broken when Podrick unrolled his papers and began to sort through them. Brienne watched as he plucked a quill and a tiny vial from his belt pouch.

"What are you doing, Podrick?" she asked.

"I drew these figures when we were here before but I didn't draw the dragon's head." Podrick smoothed out the parchment.

Ned leaned over him, shifting the torch to give him better light. Podrick drew in quick, smooth strokes, filling in the dragon's neck with neat rows of interlocking scales. Then he moved to the dragon's head, drawing the curve of its jaw and sharp teeth.

"No!" Brienne gasped and stepped back.

She turned to Griff, shocked by what she saw. Griff was calm now, his breathing deep and even. He met her gaze and Brienne understood the horrible truth. Griff has already understood what she had just seen in Podrick's drawing.

"Do you see it?" Griff asked, coming back to join them.

Brienne nodded slowly. She laid her hand on his arm. The instinctive desire to comfort him was greater than protocol. It was forbidden for subjects to touch their ruler without permission. Griff was more than her king. He was the man who respected and understood her, who protected her without question, who'd raised the dragons without complaint and was building a world where she belonged. He accepted her as she was.

"What is it?" Podrick looked at his drawing then up at the carving. "Is my picture wrong?"

Griff squeezed Brienne's hand before turning his attention back to her squire. "No, Pod, it's exactly right. Which sigils have scales in their images?"

Podrick frowned, his eyebrows pulling together. "House Targaryen, of course. It's the only sigil with dragons."

"No, Podrick," Brienne corrected him as she released Griff's arm. "House Targaryen doesn't have scales on the dragons in its sigil."

Varys leaned over to look at the drawing then looked up at the carving. His eyes widened with stunned understanding. "Rhaegar thought it was the direwolf of House Stark, didn't he? The fur on their sigil looks like dragon scales."

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"Rhaegar couldn't accept his master plan had failed, that he wouldn't father the three heads of the dragon. He had to be right so he turned his attention to Lyanna Stark." Griff finished. "The Starks fought to get her back. Then whole realm bled for Rhaegar's arrogance."

Ned's eyes widened. "You're saying Rhaegar humiliated Princess Elia, kidnapped Lyanna, and started a war that killed _thousands_ because he wanted to believe a poorly carved dragon was a direwolf?"

"That…that's insane," Brienne whispered. "His actions destroyed entire families. Whole houses were wiped out of existence in Robert's Rebellion. The Starks lost their daughter, son and father. House Martell lost Princesses Elia and Rhaenys and Prince Lewyn. House Dayne lost Arthur and Ashara. House Targaryen lost almost everything because Rhaegar misunderstood a _carving_?"

"Rhaegar believed he was special," Griff reminded her. "He'd been raised to believe the world was his. What did he know about bearing the consequences of his actions? When he wanted to be a minstrel, he picked up a harp. When he wanted to be a warrior, he picked up a sword. Then he decided he'd be the victor at the tourney of Harrenhal. The greatest fighters in the kingdom, including undefeated swordsmen such as Arthur Dayne and Barristan Selmy, were suddenly no match for him."

"Even Aerys said Ser Arthur and Ser Barristan were the greatest fighters he'd ever seen," Varys reminded them. "Only _Dawn_ would make Ser Arthur the victor if they fought each other."

"Ahh, but what is the sword of the stars against the son of destiny?" Griff asked, his voice cold and bitter. "Rhaegar was a man who saw only what he wanted to see. He watched others suffer but did nothing about it. His wife struggled to carry his babe while he planned to foist the next child on another woman. His mother bore the bruises and tears of his father's abuse but he turned a blind eye. His father's actions destabilized the kingdom but Rhaegar's ignored him. His focus was on creating the three heads of the dragon. All that mattered was that Rhaegar had his way."

Podrick's eyes were huge. "Rhaegar's selfishness nearly destroyed the whole kingdom. Worse, if he'd done nothing, everything would have all worked out."

Ned stared at him. "What do you mean?"

"Rhaegar didn't need to father the third head of the dragon," Podrick explained. "Queen Rhaella gave birth to Daenerys during the last month of Robert's Rebellion. Daenerys is the Mother of Dragons. Her sacrifice allowed the dragons to be reborn."

Griff shook his head and looked back at the image of the three warriors. "Rhaegar didn't see the clues as they truly were. He only saw what supported his belief of his own self-importance."

"Rhaegar decided on Lyanna Stark simply because she was the daughter of the house of the direwolf." Podrick looked sadly at the carving. "If only he'd seen the dragon for what it was. Then he would've known the third head of the dragon would come from the house of the dragon. So much bloodshed and suffering could have been prevented."

They all fell silent. Brienne listened to the dragons calling out to each other as they played in the dark, larger outer cave. Why did they enjoy being here so much? Did they sense, perhaps even connect with, the dragons that had previously lived in this cave? Given how vast the network of caverns was, many fully grown dragons could comfortably share this nest. Easy access to the sea allowed them to swim and fish, while the velvety darkness assured peaceful sleep.

The dragons were young now, small enough to fit inside buildings and ship cabins. They were three times larger than they'd been when they'd hatched and were growing steadily. Perhaps they would grow to be as large as Drogon, if not larger. Then they would no longer fit into traditional spaces. The five would need to live in places like these caves. They could never be chained up or trapped as they'd been in the dragon pit. This cave was created to shelter the Targaryen dragons and their secrets. Her gaze went back to many swirls and circles. Could Griff be right? Was there really a battle plan hidden within this array of seemingly meaningless symbols? Were the dragons, including these five young dragons, the key to winning the battle for the dawn?

"Are you sure about this, your Grace?" she asked. "You truly believe these dragons, as young as they are, can defeat the Army of the Dead?"

"They won't battle alone," Griff reminded her. "We'll fight alongside them. Drogon and Rhaegal will be with them, too. And, soon, we'll have another weapon to fight the Night King."

"Is that enough? The Night King killed a grown dragon," Podrick's voice quivered. "How can the young dragons fight against him? They only know how to defend, not attack. Their scales are still soft enough to pierce. Worse, what if the Night King raises Viserion to fight them?"

Griff paused and looked over at Brienne. His eyes softened and his mouth gentled into a slight frown. She'd seen that expression before, when he was concerned about how she'd respond to an issue. He put his hand on her shoulder, as if expecting to calm her. She tensed, knowing she wouldn't like what he was about to say. He spoke to the room but kept his focus on her.

"Yes, I believe so, _especially_ if the Night King raises the dragon. That would answer a question that has bothered me since I began researching the Long Night," Griff admitted.

Brienne snorted, her shoulders rigid. "_A_ question? Only one? We're looking at carvings that you say suggest the dragons, _our children_, must fight against a man who kills dragons. You have only one question about all this?"

Griff chuckled but it was strained. He dropped his hand. "I have many questions but one has perplexed me the most. How was the Night King contained before?"

"By the Wall," Podrick answered. "The children of the forest put magical enchantments on the Wall. The Night King can't go past it, at least, not yet."

"But how?" Griff persisted. "The Wall, even with the use of magic, took many years to raise. Did men hold the Night King down for an entire generation while the children, men and giants built the Wall? How was the Night King contained until the Wall was built?"

Everyone was still for a moment. A shocked silence descended on them. Only the cries of the dragons, playing in the outer chamber, were heard. The guards, aware of their confusion, looked at each other, unsure of how to respond.

"Skorkydoso istan se bantis dārys ōregion ēva se dōros istan mazvēttan?" Griff said. "How was the Night King contained until the Wall was built?"

His translation didn't ease the guards' confusion. Brienne suspected their startled expressions were the same as on her face. She looked around at Ned, Varys and Podrick. They looked back at her, blank faced. Griff asked a logical question.

"The Wall had to be built before the Night King was captured or tricked into going north of it," Ned decided. "The Army of the Dead had to have gone south. Otherwise, the Night King would have learned the army of men were building the Wall."

Griff nodded. "Agreed. Now put yourself in the Night King's position. You have the power of ice, have subjugated thousand, if not millions, of creatures into your army. There are some men who survived, but they're a small number. How can they stand against you?"

Ned stiffened. "They can only stand against me if they have weapons powerful enough to fight me."

"What fights ice?" Griff prompted. "What have we determined can destroy Wights and White Walkers?

"Fire and dragonglass," Podrick answered. "Dragons are fire made flesh. Dragonglass is created by their fire and magic. We had—"

Podrick stopped speaking. His eyes widened and he met Brienne's gaze. Ned and Varys also stilled. The guards looked at them blankly, unsure of what he was saying. Griff looked at each person in turn.

"The first men, the children and the giants had dragons," Griff finished "Pōnta ēdan zaldrīzoti."

"You're saying the Targaryens weren't the first to bring dragons to Westeros," Ned clarified. "Dragons were here thousands of years ago and fought against the Army of the Dead."

Griff nodded. "That's what I believe. Now, continue with that thought. You're the Night King, ruling with ice and fear. You learn of a resistance in the far north. You're confronted by a wall of ice, seven hundred feet tall, so long it stretches the width of Westeros. What would you think?"

"I'd think the people were trying to defy my rule, to build defenses against me." Ned replied. "A wall and castles where none existed before. I'd wonder who made them and why."

"What would you do?" Griff asked.

"I'd destroy them. I'd tear down their castles and their Wall." Ned frowned. "The wights we saw weren't intelligent enough to climb the Wall. They could break through by overrunning the castles."

"At which point the army of men would attack with their most powerful weapons, the dragons," Brienne breathed. "To fight them, the Night King needed to take a dragon himself. That's how the army of men lured him north of the Wall. He killed a dragon, raised it and flew over the wall to battle the other dragons."

"The army of men destroyed the undead dragon and stopped the Night King," Ned continued. "They couldn't kill him but weakened him severely. Then they created the Night's Watch and enchanted the Wall to imprison him."

"Time passed and humanity grew careless," Varys concluded. "They turned history into a fable, believed the truth to be nothing more than a story designed to frighten children."

"Meanwhile, the Night King still existed, though too weak to be a threat. The red star fell north of the Wall, reviving magic, reviving _him_." Brienne shivered in the cool, dark cave. "And it gave him a powerful magical weapon."

Griff's expression was grim. "He began to build his army, attracting the attention of the Night's Watch. He knew human nature. Men are willing to destroy themselves in their thirst for power. The army of men, in their great hubris, went north of the Wall and attacked his army. Jon and Daenerys didn't understand the Night King was luring them, so he could seize another dragon."

"This time, the Gods were on our side. Viserion fell through the ice, putting it out of the Night King's reach. That's given us time to regroup and plan." Brienne reminded them. "If the Night King had raised Viserion immediately, he would have easily taken Drogon and Rhaegal. Jon and Daenerys were unprepared to counter the power of his spear or his magic."

"How much time do we have left?" Podrick asked quietly. "How long before Viserion rises?"

Griff's expression was grim. "That's the unknown, Pod. I don't think we have much longer. Soon the dead dragon will rise. The Night King has the advantage of history. He knows what the army of men did before to contain him. He knows how to kill and control dragons. We don't know how to stop him. Yet, if we don't stop him, he'll take all the dragons."

Brienne shuddered. She drew a deep breath and forced her body to be still. She looked past the men to stare at the Ice Dragon and the terrible secrets the carvings had revealed. Her gaze fell to the eight-headed swirl. Her heart began to pound as she stared at it, seeing the seven living dragons falling to the Night King's spear. The Night King had already killed one dragon and threatened to take the rest. He had never been killed, only contained. Now he was about to strike again.

Her gaze shifted to Griff's sigil of the three-headed dragon then back to the swirl. This terrible sigil warned the Night King meant to take, to _enslave_, the living dragons. Aegon and his sisters had conquered most of Westeros with only three dragons.

With eight undead dragons, the Night King would conquer the entire world.

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**Translations:**

Ao kostagon't emagon nykeā egros kesīr = You can't have a sword here

Nyke gōntan epagon ao eptan. īlon jorrāelagon tolī ōños = I did as you asked. We need more light.

Jurnegon syt se suvion zaldrīzes = Look for the ice dragon

Konīr ziry iksos! = There it is

Skoros iksos se suvion zaldrīzes jurnegēre rȳ? = What is the ice dragon looking at?

Skorkydoso istan se bantis dārys ōregion ēva se dōros istan mazvēttan –

Se suvion zaldrīzes iksos kesīr tolī. - The ice dragon is here too.

Pōnta ēdan zaldrīzoti = The had dragons

**Author's Notes:** The next chapter will also take place in the Dragonstone cave. The carvings haven't revealed all their secrets. What do you think of my interpretation of the cave carvings?

I'm still working without a beta reader so I don't have anyone to find the holes in my logic. Please put your questions in the feedback and I'll address them in the next chapter.

Thanks for reading!


	57. Carving Keeper

The Keeper

Chapter 57 – Carving Keeper

Brienne tore her gaze away from the carvings to look around the room. The darkness, lit by the flickering torches, took on a menacing tone as the mood darkened. The Unsullied guards looked at them and at each other, their eyes dark and darting, unable to settle on a single image or person. Ned, Podrick and Varys craned their necks to study the carvings around and above them. Griff, unlike the others, was very still. He continued to stare at the carvings of the three warriors. Brienne's heart pounded as she looked at the swirl carved below the warriors, the terrible threat of what the Night King could do, if he enslaved the dragons into his undead army.

"The Night King cannot take any more dragons," Brienne declared. "I won't allow it."

"No one wants him to have more dragons, Brienne," Griff assured her. "If we'd only seen these clues sooner, we might not have lost Viserion to him."

Brienne gasped and exchanged horrified glances with Podrick. Griff and Ned had been in Dorne, where Griff had made his claim as Princess Elia's son. This was their first time to view the cave drawings. They didn't know about the secrets hidden here. The other people who had been here, had seen the carvings multiple times, had no such excuse.

She, Podrick and Varys had been on Dragonstone for several days, preparing for the parlay with Cersei, allowing the young dragons to adjust to being in Westeros and discussing their strategy for defending the realm. They'd all come into the caves to see the carvings, giving Podrick ample opportunity to make drawings of the carvings. Jon, Davos, Tyrion, even Daenerys and Missandei had been here multiple times. They had all been in this cavern and none of them had understood the warnings etched into these walls.

"We didn't understand what we saw," Varys admitted, echoing her thoughts out loud. "Perhaps, if we had, Viserion would still be alive today."

"We gain no advantage from regretting what we cannot change, Lord Varys," Ned noted. "Many people, over many years, didn't understand. These images have been here for several thousand years. Targaryens had lived on Dragonstone for over a century before they began their conquest. Think of how many people saw these carvings and never understood their true meaning."

"Did Aegon the Conqueror understand?" Podrick asked. "As you said, Targaryens had lived here for a century before he was born. Did Aegon believe the Ice Dragon was looking at these images of the three warriors? Was that when he decided to take six kingdoms with fire and blood?"

Ned considered then slowly shook his head. "I don't think so. If he had, then he would've known he'd never conquer Dorne."

Podrick frowned. "How so?"

Ned gestured to the carvings. "These images show the three figures of House Targaryen, their dragons _and_ the pierced sun. Three equally powerful forces, with none able to overpower the others. Aegon should have known he couldn't defeat those under the command of House Nymeros Martell. The sun's fire is stronger than even a dragon's fire."

"He _did_ try to conquer Dorne. Queen Rhaenys was lost when her dragon, Meraxes, was brought down by a bolt to its eye." Brienne shuddered. "It's been said the two years that followed were brutal for Dorne. Aegon's wrath after Rhaenys's death was boundless."

"It ended when Princess Deria Martell brought Meraxes's head back to King's Landing." Griff's expression was set and composed. "She said Dorne wanted peace with the dragons. Aegon was about to refuse her when she gave him a letter written by her father, Prince Nymor. Aegon read the letter and clenched his hands into such tight fists, they bled."

"What did the letter say?" Podrick asked.

Griff shrugged. "No one knows. Aegon burned the letter then flew to Dragonstone on Balerion the Black Dread. Aegon returned the next morning and signed a peace treaty with Princess Deria, ending his attempts to conquer Dorne."

Podrick looked around at the glowing images. "Do you think that's when he understood what these carvings truly meant? King Aegon saw the pierced sun's strength was equal to the dragons' might. He realized Dorne must remain independent, even as a part of the seven kingdoms?"

"Perhaps," Ned agreed. "These images are like prophecies. They've been interpreted in the way that best fits the interpreter's wants. Aegon the Conqueror saw the Targaryen conquest; Rhaegar thought it was the rebirth of the three heads of the dragon; Jon Snow thought it showed the pact between the children of the forest and the first men; and Prince Aegon believes it to be a battle plan to defeat the Night King."

"How can a single set of carvings mean such different outcomes based on the person who views them? How do we know what is the true meaning of these symbols?" Podrick asked. "How can we be sure that Aegon or Rhaegar, or even Jon Snow for that matter, didn't have the right of it? Their interpretations can be just as likely as King Aegon's."

His words caused Ned and Varys to stiffen. Concerned frowns etched their faces as they looked at each other then at Griff. Even the guards turned to Griff, picking up on the lords' anxiety. The rightful King of the Seven Kingdoms didn't share their worry. Griff's expressionless face finally softened into a faint smile.

"We have an advantage those men didn't. The Gods are on our side," he reminded them. "Their warrior guides us. Pōja ānogar kipagīros iksos rūsīr īlva."

They all turned to look at Brienne, including the Unsullied guards. She ducked her head to hide the flush that colored her face. She was the Gods' warrior but she wasn't omniscient. The Gods gave her dreams and small jolts to alert her to important clues but they didn't explain them to her. She had to do that herself. Sometimes she was painfully slow at deciphering their will.

"What is your opinion, Lady Ser Brienne?" Varys asked.

"I don't know, Lord Varys." She frowned, unable to hide her uncertainty. "I believe Lord Ned is correct. The interpretations are based on the interpreter. How often have we heard the prophecy 'the prince that was promised will bring the dawn' and not known _Dawn_ was the sword of House Dayne? Only King Aegon understood it meant the _Sword of the Morning_ would become the new Prince of Dorne. The clues may have been here for centuries but we only understand them when we need them. Even Rhaegar—"

She stopped speaking and looked over at Griff. As she expected, the soft smile disappeared as his posture stiffened. Griff's mouth hardened and his eyes darkened at hearing his sire's name. He had many grievances against the man who had fathered him and, in his mind, abandoned him.

"Go on," Griff urged, his voice as stiff as his expression.

Brienne sighed and continued her thought. "Even Rhaegar, who grew up here, didn't understand the images until he'd seen them for half his life. He'd been a serious little boy who preferred the harp and books to tourneys and swords. He put aside everything that had defined him to become a warrior, the prince that was promised."

"But he wasn't the prince that was promised, Prince Aegon is," Ned interjected.

"Yes, we know that now. Rhaegar didn't understand that until his son was born under the red star. Imagine what life must have been like for him." Brienne looked from the carvings of the three warriors to Griff, part of that promise made flesh. "All his life, Rhaegar bore the weight of destiny, of knowing that he was responsible for being, then for bringing forth, the three heads of the dragon. That must have been a crushing burden."

Griff snorted. "Rhaegar was a fool; a selfish man who believed himself the center of the world."

"Rhaegar was a product of his environment, born in the tragedy of Summerhall," she reminded them. "He'd been Aerys's and Rhaella's only surviving child for the first decade of his life. The only one of their six children to survive infancy until Viserys's birth. Rhaegar's entire life was defined by the shadow of death. House Targaryen no longer had a large family, dragons or Aerys's sanity to sustain their rule. Rhaegar had seemed to be the only hope for the future of the house of the dragon."

"Rhaegar brought his destruction onto himself. He made bad choices," Griff insisted. "He treated kingship as a right, not a duty."

"He was as he was raised to be," Brienne insisted. "Everyone is what they are and where they are for a reason."

She recalled her conversation with Kinvara, the High Priestess of the Red Temple of Volantis. The red woman had drawn her and Podrick into the back alley near the docks in Tyrosh, insisting that she had seen Brienne's path. Kinvara had been the one to send her into the Disputed Lands.

_Kinvara shook her head slowly. "No, you came because you knew, in your heart, that you have a great destiny."_

_Brienne blinked. "That's what the Ironborn priest said, too."_

"_Ironborn priest? Not only the Lord of Light summoned you?" Kinvara's pale skin drained to milky white in the gathering dusk. "You don't understand the grave importance of your journey, Lady Brienne. If you don't believe in my Lord, do you the hold with the Drowned God or the Seven, perhaps the Old Gods and the New? Do you believe the faith in your own heart?"_

"_Yes, of course I do," Brienne said slowly._

_The priestess's voice became urgent, a sharp contrast to her earlier calmness. "Then you know everyone is what they are and where they are for a reason." _

"Kinvara, the High Priestess, said that to you before she sent you to find Drogon and birth the baby dragons." Podrick, with his excellent memory, remembered Kinvara's words, too. "She also said 'Look inside yourself. You've always known that yours was not the ordinary path'. She knew you would become the dragons' keeper and the Gods' warrior. Rhaegar, like you, was who he was for a reason."

"Don't compare Rhaegar to Brienne, Podrick," Griff ordered, his voice sharp. "Rhaegar thought of himself first. Brienne is always ready to sacrifice herself for others. There is no comparison."

Podrick jerked and ducked his head, but not before Brienne saw his crestfallen expression. His dark eyes had dimmed and his jaw softened, barely keeping his mouth closed. Her young squire was loyal, brave, and intelligent. He was also honest and fair, qualities that Griff must not stifle in those who served him. A just king welcomed open discussion and differing opinions to assist him in making the best decisions for his people.

She stepped between Griff and Podrick. "Pardon the offense, your Grace. Podrick speaks plainly, as I've always encouraged him to do. If you find fault with his observations, then the blame must fall upon me."

Griff's right expression smoothed out immediately. "I take no offense, Brienne. I simply don't like you being compared to Rhaegar." His gaze shifted to Podrick. "Even so, I shouldn't have been so harsh in my command. I know Podrick has only love and respect for you. I'll be more aware of my tone in the future."

He held his hand out to Podrick. Podrick grasped Griff's forearm, sharing a warrior's grip. Her squire smiled and regained his normal, cheerful expression. Griff used the hold to pull Podrick closer. He circled Podrick's slim shoulders with his other arm, bringing him into a brief embrace. He murmured something she didn't hear but it made Podrick nod and his smile broaden into a grin. Brienne's own smile was equally wide as she watched them part, the momentary conflict easily resolved.

Griff admitted he'd overreacted and took steps to remedy the pain he'd caused, even for a minor injury. It was a promising indication of the kind of ruler he would become. As king, Griff needn't apologize or even acknowledge his mistakes. A king's right to rule was absolute. It was given to him by the judgement of the Gods, through blood rights, a result of the dragon blood running through his veins. Even Robert, who'd taken the Iron Throne by conquest after defeating Rhaegar in combat, had claimed blood rights through his Targaryen grandmother.

The guards shifted, causing their torch lights to bounce around the room. Brienne looked up and caught the bewildered glances they shared with each other. It struck her how odd it must seem to them to witness Griff's relaxed smiles and easy command. They knew Griff was competing with their queen to rule Westeros. Daenerys was the Breaker of Chains, the one who had freed the Unsullied from the horrors of slavery. While she had given them a true cause to fight for, had she also planned to provide them with a future? Griff had already begun to give his men titles and holdings. He rewarded them while using their wealth to stabilize the Reach and the Crownlands.

The Unsullied and the Dothraki were all willing to die for their queen, to follow her across the Narrow Sea and into battle in a foreign land. Did Daenerys have a plan of what to do next? How would she provide for her men, the armies she brought, and people she'd left behind in the Bay of Dragons? Her council was being attacked by warlords in Astapor, her court was falling to slavers in Yunkai and the Great Masters were fighting for control of Meereen. She had brought thirty thousand bloodriders, eight thousand trained Unsullied soldiers and another five thousand still in training. What would happen to Daenerys's people after they survived the war against the Army of the Dead?

"Skoros hen these vali?" One of the guards, stationed on the far side of the cavern, pointed to another set of carvings.

Everyone moved to the far side of the space, except the guards standing outside the cavern. An outcrop of rocks jutted out from the cave wall. Beyond it was an arrangement of four skeletal men holding pointed weapons in their bony hands.

Imgur dot com / gallery / Z6UXEu7 (remove spaces)

"Wights," Podrick noted. "They look like the dead who rose around King's Landing."

"Wait." Brienne leaned closer to study the carvings. "These are different from the other carvings. Look at the fine details in the images and compare them to the other figures."

Podrick nodded. "I see what you mean, my Lady Ser. Those images are round and simple, as if created by people who had limited drawing skills."

"Like children?" Varys suggested.

Podrick nodded more vigorously. "Yes, while these images were carved by someone with more control or better tools. That allowed for finer details and more realistic images."

"You're saying that these images were carved by White Walkers?" Ned sounded doubtful. "They came into this cave, saw the images carved by the few children who'd managed to resist them and added their own likenesses?"

"It's possible. A king who ruled with ice and fear would laugh at these images. He'd see them as his enemy's last attempt to leave a record of themselves behind," Podrick suggested. "It would make him feel powerful to insert himself in their last attempts, to show his command over those he'd conquered."

"That would mean the Army of the Dead made it to the _island_ of Dragonstone," Varys pointed out. "They were able to cross the Blackwater Bay or the Gullet to take the castle."

"The Night King brings the winter storms," Griff reminded him. "With time and cold, he would freeze the water, allowing his army to march across. We don't know enough about his powers or how he creates his undead army."

"There's something else different about these carvings other than their fine details," Ned noted. He held his torch higher to illuminate the images. "Do you remember I told you how the dead we fought all had skin?"

Brienne nodded, recalling their first meeting in the council chambers after their battle against the Army of the Dead.

"_The Wights all had skin," Ned pointed out._

_They all turned to stare at the Lord of Starfall, even the dragons. Ned blinked and looked at their confused faces, his own face flushing noticeably._

"_Yes, they had skin," Tyrion agreed slowly, as if speaking to a dimwit. "That is what held their bones together." Then Tyrion's eyes widened. "It held their bones together!"_

_Griff looked from Tyrion to Ned, seated on either side of him. "What is the significance of that?"_

"_We thought the Night King could raise the dead anywhere he wishes, but now we know there's a limitation," Ned explained. "I have some experience in medicine and poisons. It was part of my education as the future Lord of Starfall. While I squired for Lord Beric in the Riverlands, I saw how long it took for skin and muscle to fall off dead men's bones."_

_Tanda shuddered but said nothing. Ned grimaced but continued when Griff nodded at him._

"_In Dorne, the hot sun and hot sand will melt flesh off bones in mere weeks," Ned continued, "while the dead in the Riverlands lasted for months."_

"_Ser Davos explained the same thing to us," Podrick noted. "When we were discussing how long it might take for Viserion to rise. He said the colder the water, the longer it would take for a body to become putrid. It must be the same for temperature on land as in water."_

_Ned nodded. "As I said before, all the Wights had skin, something to hold their bones together and allow them to move."_

"_Which means the Army of the Dead isn't unlimited," Tyrion explained. "The Night King can only use those creatures that can move themselves. It can only raise the recently dead or those who have been preserved."_

"_Which is why the Night King brings the winter storms," Jaime concluded. "It needs the cold to preserve the dead and add to its army."_

"These carvings are of men without skin. Yet they stand upright and can hold weapons. These are White Walkers, aren't they?" Brienne surmised.

Ned nodded. "Yes, that must mean the process of creating White Walkers is different than the process for raising wights. White Walkers can exist without skin or muscle while wights are mindless creatures with limited mobility and use."

"We don't know how they're created," Griff's tone was grim. "There's a magic at play that allows the White Walkers to move even without skin and muscle. Learning that might help us understand how to kill them."

"We need Jon Snow," Varys agreed. "He was the Lord Commander of the Night's Watch and has fought wights and White Walkers."

"Yes." Griff nodded in agreement. "It seems we must meet with Jon Snow once we complete our business in Tarth."

"Jon was with Daenerys and the Dothraki at Harrenhal," Brienne reminded them. "They were waiting for Unsullied to join them from Casterly Rock. Their armies are already travelling north through the Riverlands."

"Their armies are, but Jon Snow is not," Varys clarified. "He, along with a thousand Unsullied, will march to Maidenpool. They're currently guarding the Casterly gold at Harrenhal. Yara Greyjoy and the _Iron Fleet_ will transport the gold to Braavos."

"_Dragonbinder_," Brienne gasped. "The _Silence_ might be docked at Maidenpool. We must destroy that horn."

"We will," Griff assured her. "We'll retrieve the weapon in Tarth then sail to Maidenpool to meet with the _Iron Fleet_ and Jon Snow."

He turned for the entrance to the cave. Everyone, including the guards, fell into step behind him. They were almost to the narrow opening that led to the larger cave when Ned gasped and came to a stop. They all turned to look at him.

"Look!" Ned held his torch high and illuminated an image on the ceiling. "It's a sun with swirls, like heads, inside it. It almost looks like your sigil, your Grace."

Imgur dot com / gallery / jIlin2o (remove spaces)

Everyone looked up at the image. The circle with swirls inside it and rows of dots radiating out of it, did look like a sun. If a man wanted to believe it, the swirls inside could even be elongated heads. Griff stared at the image for a moment then shook his head.

"No, Lord Ned," he disagreed. "We cannot become fanciful and let our imaginations run wild. Any of these carvings could be viewed as evidence. That was Rhaegar's folly. He saw what he wanted to see and not what truly was. The dragon's eye guides us to the true path. We cannot allow ourselves to be distracted from the truth."

Warmth rushed through Brienne despite the seriousness of their discussion and the chill of the darkened cave. A lesser man might have accepted, perhaps even wholeheartedly embraced, such a symbol. He could claim it was validation of his opinions. Griff chose to ignore it and focused on the clues that might help them battle the Army of the Dead. He was putting the army of men before his kingship. A great ruler ruled for his people, not for himself.

Griff went through the small opening first. The men stepped back to allow Brienne to follow him next. The gesture was courtly but also smart. The dragons screeched joyously as Griff, Brienne and Podrick walked into the enormous center cave. Brienne braced herself for their approach while Griff held his arms out to catch Serdun. The dragons greeted them as though they'd been gone for days instead of the short time they'd been apart. The five circled them, their flapping wings tossing Brienne's growing hair into her eyes. She didn't have a free hand to push it back as she knelt to soothe the dragons.

The others joined them and they walked to the entrance with the dragons flying overhead. The guards seemed to be more comfortable with the dragons now. They maintained their formation, two guards leading the way, the other four behind them, without casting nervous glances at the five above them. They all took a moment to allow their eyes to adjust to the brightness outside the cave entrance.

Griff turned to the Unsullied guards. "Kirimvose syt rual īlva kesīr."

Brienne knew kirimvose meant 'thank you' in High Valyrian. Griff was thanking the guards for allowing them to view the carvings. A king wasn't required to show courtesy any more than he was required to show mercy. A wise king did so, knowing his words and actions went far beyond those who stood before him in the moment. The songs and stories told about good kings spread their virtues far and wide, just as the whispers of cruelty and madness condemned them.

Griff turned away from the guards and led them out into the strong afternoon sunshine. The sun's warmth was welcome after the chilly darkness. Brienne turned her head to follow the dragons' flight as they flew out of the cave and into the bright blue sky. The five released streams of fire as they flew in circles above them, their flames as bright as the sun shining above them. Brienne held her hand to her forehead to shade her eyes. Ned's words suddenly came back to her.

"_The sun's fire is stronger than even a dragon's fire."_

Translations:

Pōja ānogar kipagīros iksos rūsīr īlva. = Their warrior is with us.

Skoros hen these vali? = What of these men?

Kirimvose syt rual īlva kesīr. = Thank you for allowing us here.

**Author's Note:** I hope you had a safe and relaxing Memorial Day holiday. Please stay safe in these difficult, turbulent times.

You can also read this story on An Archive of our Own if you find it frustrating to view the images in a separate window. The images are visible with the text on that site. Select any story on AO3 then change the number after 'works-slash' to 18430568.

I'm still writing without a beta. Please let me know if I need to make corrections. Does anyone have time to be my temporary beta reader? If so, leave me a comment below. Actually, leave me comments even if you can't be a beta reader. I love to hear from you. It helps me clarify points that might be confusing and it's so encouraging to know you enjoy my efforts.

Next chapter: Brienne journeys to Tarth and understands what she missed in her last dragon dream.


	58. Coast Keeper

The Keeper

Chapter 58 – Coast Keeper

**Author's Note: **I'm sorry I didn't post last week. I had networking issue. So, to make up for it, I'm posting an extra-long chapter. I hope you enjoy it. I'm still working without a beta reader so please let me know if I need to make corrections.

.***.

Two days later, Brienne stood at the bow of the _Sea Keeper_ with her face tilted to the sky. She relished the feel of the salty spray hitting her face and the strong breeze pulling at her hair. Her heart beat faster with anticipation as she picked out familiar coastal markings. Most joyful of all, she basked in the pleasure of seeing the dragons flying overhead. All five of them, including Serdun, flew over the ship in wide swoops, too excited to come down or even fish.

"Do you think they've picked up Lord Selwyn's scent?" Podrick asked. "They've been like this since we spotted Tarth on the horizon."

He held the railing but gripped it lightly. Brienne glanced at her squire. The waters had calmed considerably since they'd entered the Straits of Tarth earlier this morning. That made Podrick more comfortable being on the deck. Unlike her, he hadn't spent his whole life around ships and didn't enjoy them the way she did.

"I think so," she agreed. "They sensed my emotions in King's Landing when they were still on Dragonstone. They can easily pick up Father's scent this close to home."

Podrick also looked up at the dragons. "I believe Serdun is fully healed from its injury. King Aegon checked the wound site earlier. Serdun doesn't even have scars."

Brienne studied the green dragon as it flew above them. Serdun, with its magnificent wings outstretched and steady, crossed over their heads. All five dragons were taking turns flying along the coast of Tarth then returning to the ship. Their screeches and squawks were high-pitched and plentiful, a clear indication of their rising excitement.

"Yes, thank the Gods," she agreed. "Serdun no longer wobbles on descent nor does it need the wind to keep it airborne."

"How much longer before we reach port, my Lady Ser?"

Podrick tried to sound casual but she heard the eagerness in his voice. She smiled warmly at him. Apparently, the dragons weren't alone in their eagerness to reach Evenfall Hall.

"We should be at the dock in an hour or so, depending on the wind. We're coming in using the power of the sails. The Straits are not as turbulent as the Narrow Sea nor is the tide as strong," she explained.

"Good, I'm eager to be in port," Podrick admitted then his eyes widened. "To see Lord Selwyn, of course. I'm happy to stay on the ship for as long as you need me to, my Lady Ser."

Brienne laughed and pulled Podrick in for a brief embrace. He'd found his sea legs on the second day of their journey. That had allowed him to stop leaning against the walls and holding the rails as he walked. Even so, she'd noted his marked lack of appetite and the dark circles under his eyes. Though he was adjusting, sea travel didn't come naturally to Podrick.

"You're becoming a better sailor every day, Pod. Even so, tonight you will sit in a chair that doesn't sway and sleep in a bed that doesn't rock," she promised him.

Podrick sighed and smiled gratefully. As was his nature, he didn't complain. Podrick had been an unwanted burden thrust upon her when they'd first met. Now he was bonded to her, as precious as the dragons. From the first, he hadn't judged her by her appearance or sneered at her desire to become a knight. He'd served her faithfully and had been eager to help and be useful. He'd gone from being a nuisance to becoming her closest confidant. She could no more imagine a life without him than being without the dragons. This was her family and she would do whatever was necessary to protect them.

"No need to announce our arrival." Podrick nodded up to the sky. "The dragons are so loud all of Evenfall will hear them long before we pull into port."

Brienne laughed. "I may have to send them ahead before we dock. Otherwise, they won't allow us an opportunity near Father."

She looked back up at the sky. Catren caught her attention. She watched as it rose high into the sky. Catren then stretched out its wings to their full, impressive length to glide on the breeze. The morning sunlight gilding its rich warm brown scales until they shone almost golden. A shudder passed through Brienne, so strong she had to grab the railing to maintain her balance.

"My Lady Ser, are you alright?" Podrick put his hand on her arm, as if to steady her.

"I'm fine," she assured him. "I just had an odd feeling. I—"

She stopped speaking as the dragons screeched and rushed back to circle over the deck. The five had picked up on her emotional spike and had raced back to defend her from the unknown threat. They were too young to understand the difference between an emotional jolt and a physical attack. She cupped her hands around her mouth and called up to them.

"Sȳrī gaomagon, zaldrīzes!"

The five continued to circle over them for a few more seconds. Then, sensing no further cause for alarm, they turned back to their play. They swooped through the sky, darting between the _Sea Keeper_ and the coast, calling out to each other. Brienne and Podrick looked around the deck. The men, many who had looked up when the dragons had begun to circle, went back to their duties. A few even smiled up at the five. The men must have gotten used to the dragons' reactions while training with them in Valyria. Plus, now that their ship was so close to Evenfall Hall and Storm's End, _Golden Fleet_ ships and men in golden tunics guarded both sides of the Straits.

While the other men on deck turned their attention away from the dragons, Podrick did not. He looked from the five, now once again happy and relaxed, then to Brienne.

His brow wrinkled. "Are you well, my Lady Ser? What upset you and the dragons?"

"They felt my emotions." Brienne lowered her voice even though she and Podrick were far from the others. "I looked up, saw Catren, and a chill passed through me."

"You had the same reaction when Lord Ned put his Valyrian steel sword on the table," Podrick recalled. "You saw _Bright Star, Lightning_ and _Starfall_ together. That's when you understood the significance of the lightning strike outside your birthing chamber."

Brienne nodded. "Yes, I had a similar reaction and it alarmed the dragons."

Podrick nodded then looked up at five again. "What did Catren do that alarmed you?"

"Nothing," she sighed. "It was flying and the sun reflected off its scales. It made Catren's color seem to change from brown to gold. I remembered the same happened in my last dragon dream."

Podrick nodded. "That was when you dreamed of the dragon changing colors and the five swords resting on your arms. The black dragon's coloring changed first to match Drogon, then Rhaegal, followed by Serdun, Allwyn and Gallan, then Catren and ended with Viserion."

"It wasn't just the dragon," she corrected. "The wolf started a sooty color, too, almost black. Then, as it walked closer to me, it became lighter with every step. It stopped when it was a pale grey, matching Ardayn's color."

Podrick's brows furrowed. "The Gods communicate with you through your dreams. You had an odd feeling after seeing how Catren's color changed, as you had dreamt it. Perhaps we should reexamine your dragon dreams. We might have information now to help us understand clues we missed before."

Brienne stilled. Podrick was right. The Gods used prophecy, dreams, and jolts to communicate with her. She'd felt a jolt the first time she'd touched _Lightning_, the sword of House Dondarrion. They'd only known to look for a sword with a lightning streak after she'd dreamt of holding a lightning bolt. Even then, they'd had the sword for several days before she'd truly understood the Gods' message.

Brienne nodded. "Let's start with the easiest part, the swords. I was holding five swords. I knew they were important."

"_Ice, Dark Sister, Bright Star, Lightning_ and _Dawn_," Podrick counted them on her fingers. "King Aegon wields _Dawn_, you carry _Dark Sister_ and Ser Jaime took _Bright Star. _We have _Ice_ and _Lightning_ with us. His Grace has already said we'll sail to Maidenpool from Tarth. He'll give _Ice_ to Jon Snow, won't he?"

"It was his family's sword, taken from Lord Ned Stark after his death. I believe it was reforged for a purpose. Perhaps it must be returned to House Stark to—" Brienne stopped speaking.

Podrick frowned at her sudden silence. "What is it?"

"The sigil for House Stark is a silver-grey direwolf," she noted. "The same color as Ardayn's scales. The fur on the direwolf sigil can also be interpreted as scales. All the dragon carvings in the castle on Dragonstone use the same scale pattern. What distinguishes a dragon's head from a direwolf's head?"

Podrick stilled and took a deep breath. "Perception. We see what we want to see."

"There's a carving in the Dragonstone caves that can be either a dragon's head or a wolf's head. King Aegon believes dragons fought at the Wall during the first Long Night. If so, there must have been a pact between the Valyrian dragonriders and the King in the North, the son of House Stark." She paused as the thoughts tumbled in her head. "Which might be why House Stark has such a magnificent Valyrian steel sword. Not just a longsword, but a greatsword, large enough to make two traditional longswords. How could the Starks, comfortable but not possessing great wealth, afford such an extraordinary, costly sword?"

"Perhaps the Valyrian dragonriders gave it to them. They expected the Kings of Winter to guard the realms of men." Podrick's face paled. "Someone had to be near the Wall with a weapon that kills White Walkers. Steel can't even kill Wights. Men with ordinary swords can't fight against the Army of the Dead. We know what kills White Walkers because Jon Snow fought them. The Bastard of Winterfell taught us that fire and Valyrian steel destroys the dead."

"My vow to Catelyn Stark was the reason we went to Essos to look for Arya." Brienne gripped the railing tightly as the memories pressed against her mind. "Kinvara knew why we were there. She called Arya a 'little grey-eyed wolf'. That might be why I pictured a grey wolf in my first dragon dream."

"You had just seen Drogon for the first time. In fact, you were injured after fighting off lions," Podrick continued. "You saw a dragon as dark as night, a maimed golden lion and a silver eagle in the same dream."

"No," she gasped. "That wasn't the only dragon I'd met."

"Yes, it was," Podrick argued. "You had your dream before the baby dragons hatched. Only Drogon was seen flying over the Disputed Lands. Rhaegal and Viserion were still in Meereen."

She looked up at the sigil flapping above them "King Aegon is also a dragon. We sailed down from Braavos to Tyrosh with a secret dragon. Perhaps that's why the dragon was black. Not because of its coloring, but because it was hidden in shadows."

"You may be right." Podrick also looked up at the sigil of Aegon Martell Targaryen. "Not only is King Aegon a dragon, he actively helped you with your journey. He took us to Tyrosh, he gave you supplies and he authorized you to use company outposts in the Disputed Lands."

"_That's why you so easily accepted my half-truths and lies, why you never pushed me to explain how I really got the dragons." Brienne understood now. "You knew to trust those who brought you fire, whether it was a sword or dragons. You'd been told fire was your guide."_

"_I accepted you even before you brought me the dragons." Griff's indigo eyes blazed. "I saw the fire in your eyes the first time we met on that dock in Braavos."_

Griff had said that in the council chambers, after he'd told them of travelling north of the Wall to retrieve _Dark Sister_. He'd accepted her from the first moment he'd met her, when she had stood on that dirty dock, covered in sweat and healing bruises, tongue-tied and defensive. She hadn't any idea, back then, of the secrets of her bloodline or the path she would follow.

Brienne frowned as she recalled her first dragon dream. "In any case, the dragon was as black as the night around it. The silver eagle flew out of the dragon's shadow, almost as if the dragon was hiding or protecting it."

"The eagle didn't need protection. It attacked the lion. The eagle was strong enough to ripe open the lion's head and dig its talons into the lion's back." Podrick reminded her. "You said the lion collapsed under the attack from the eagle."

She nodded slowly. "Yes. The next dream was when I wore the Valyrian steel armor and saw a streak of lightning. The wolf was in that dream but not the black dragon. The young dragons were there, destroying the Iron Throne as they'd actually done."

"The lion and eagle were in that dream, too, weren't they?" Podrick prodded. "You said the eagle had dug so deeply into the lion's back that you could no longer see the eagle's hind claws."

Brienne nodded. "The eagle was so dominant over the lion that its wings covered the lion's front paws and body."

"Were they the same colors as in the first dream, my Lady Ser?"

Brienne took a moment to think about it. "I don't know. They were both so soaked in blood that it was hard to tell where one creature ended and the other began. It was almost as if they were merging into a single creature."

She recalled discussing her dream with Daenerys and Missandei. They'd been concerned and attentive until she'd mentioned the two creatures seeming to merge. Then the ladies had teased her about how a lion and an eagle could possibly become one. She'd been annoyed then but now the memory made her heart ache. Could she possibly ever be warmly accepted by them now that they knew the truth of her loyalty to Aegon Martell Targaryen?

"What's wrong?" Podrick questioned. "Why are you frowning?"

Brienne shook her head and looked up to check on the dragons. The five were still at play, taking turns guarding the ship and exploring Tarth's rocky shoreline. Her longing, if they felt it, hadn't alarmed them.

"I'm fine," she assured him. "I was organizing my thoughts. The third dream once again featured the black dragon. Then its color changed to each of the dragons except Ardayn."

"Ardayn's color was represented in your dream," Podrick noted. "The wolf was as black as soot. Then it lost so much color it became silver gray, like Ardayn and the sigil of House Stark."

"If King Aegon's theory is correct, we'll need all the dragons to fight in the Great War." Brienne looked up again. "They're so young. They know nothing about war. How can they fight the Night King?"

"They won't be alone, my Lady Ser. We'll be with them, as will King Aegon, Jon Snow, the big dragons, the armies of Westeros and Essos and the Gods themselves." Podrick put his hand on the pommel of his new dragonglass sword and stood very straight. "We'll all protect them."

Warmth bloomed around Brienne's heart. Just as she'd sworn to protect her family, her family was equally determined to protect each other. Podrick stood ready to battle for her and the five. The dragons, even while playing in protected waters and eagerly awaiting their reunion with her father, were careful to guard them. Her family was strong and united. They would win the Great War if all the armies of men were equally unified.

"Speaking of protection, the swords have significant roles of their own," she continued. "I saw both _Dawn _and _Bright Star_ in my wraith dream. That's why I knew to give _Bright Star_ to Ser Jaime, so he could carry it north."

"We may have also identified the third sword in that dream. The only words you understood were from Ser Arthur. He wished you good fortune," Podrick reminded her. "Ser Bronn marches into the Great War with a Valyrian steel sword named _Fortune_."

_I wish you good fortune in the wars to come._

Ser Arthur's words reverberated in her head. This time, there was a subtle nuance to them, a slight emphasis on the end of the sentence. Then it came to her, the true purpose of the Gods repeating Ser Arthur's phrase. Brienne groaned and dropped her head. How could she have missed something so obvious?

"My Lady Ser, what's wrong?"

Podrick looked from her to the dragons. The five were fine, still playing overhead. He focused on her again, lightly laying his hand on her arm.

Brienne shook her head. "You said it a moment ago, Podrick. Why did I miss it for so long?"

Podrick's brow wrinkled. "What did I say?"

"You said 'Perception. We see what we want to see'. All this time I've been interpreting my dreams as they relate to me." She sighed heavily. "But this isn't about me, it's about the Gods and their will. They don't care about houses or crowns or kingdoms. Their focus is on saving humanity, on winning _the_ _wars to come_. Everything must be interpreted based on how it will help us win the wars against the Army of the Dead."

Though she was the Gods' warrior, she was only human. Her emotions and reactions affected her interpretation of the clues the Gods gave her. They didn't care about the survival of House Targaryen, House Lannister or House Stark anymore than they cared about the destruction of House Baratheon, House Tyrell or House Bolton. The Gods needed specific warriors and weapons, not titles or castles. She'd even said as much to Griff in King's Landing's godswood.

"_Kings and queens are easily replaced," Brienne pointed out. "As are princes. Even as we speak, Westeros has two kings, two queens and a dozen people ready to take their place. Manfrey would probably kill you himself, if you didn't have dragons, to become the next Prince of Dorne."_

_Griff shifted closer to her, his stance hard and aggressive. "What are you saying, Brienne?"_

"_You know everything you endured was necessary to bring you to this moment and what makes you so special, so important, to Westeros. It isn't that you're the king or the prince. Westeros has had a hundred kings and will have a hundred more. That's not why you're here."_

"_No?" Griff frowned and stepped close enough that his breath feathered her cheeks. "Then why am I here?"_

"_We're facing a threat greater than any we've ever known. One so great that even the Gods have joined with us to fight it. Westeros doesn't need another ruler. It needs a champion." She paused and glanced down at Dawn on Griff's belt. Then she met his gaze squarely with her own. "I can easily name half a dozen rulers, all within my lifetime. But how many _Swords of the Morning_ can you recall?"_

_Griff's eyes widened as he began to understand. His gaze shifted from Brienne to Ardayn, the dragon named after Ser Arthur Dayne, the most famous _Sword of the Morning_ in history. It had been named to honor the famed knight but now Brienne realized the dragon was, as were all things the Gods gave her, an important clue to the battle against the Army of the Dead._

_Griff's eyes were dark indigo when he looked back at her. "Only one," he admitted. "Ser Arthur Dayne."_

"_Even Lord Ned can only name three," Brienne continued. "Not three warriors in his lifetime or three in the last hundred years, but three in all of the history of House Dayne. His family has gone generations without a _Sword of the Morning_. Now they've had two in a single lifetime. Why is that?"_

_Griff drew in his breath. "Because we need Dawn to fight the Army of the Dead."_

"_Yes," Brienne agreed. "Westeros needs the greatest sword in the world, wielded by the fastest swordsman in the world. You are the _Sword of the Morning_, the sword that will protect the realms of men."_

Podrick stared at her. His eyes dilated with his shock and his hand fell from her arm. Then he swallowed visibly and nodded. "Of course. We're thinking too small. It's not about just us or the people we know. It's about humanity itself. Ser Arthur's words were to remind us we are already at war with the Night King."

Brienne nodded.

They both stared out at the Tarth shoreline as they gathered their thoughts. For a moment, there was only the cries of the dragons and the conversations of the men on deck to fill the silence between them. Then Podrick took a deep breath and nodded.

"Right." He faced her again. "I think we understand your wraith dream. The Gods wanted you to make sure _Bright Star_ and _Fortune_ were carried into the Great War."

"The dream outside the gates of King's Landing was to tell me we'll need all the dragons to fight in the Great War." She looked sadly at her happy, carefree young dragons. "Even these five will have to go into battle."

"And the swords," Podrick added. "We've identified all the swords from your dreams. They're either with us or with other fighters in the army of men."

"But how do wolves, lions and eagles help us in the battles against the Night King?" Brienne wondered. "Dragons have dragonfire, which can kill Wights and Wight Walkers. What can the other animals do?"

"Direwolves!" Podrick's eyes widened. "We know Jon Snow has one. Qyburn saw another with a pack of wolves in the Riverlands. They're magical creatures, too."

Brienne stilled as she recalled their meeting in the council chambers. Qyburn had explained how a direwolf had helped him find Robb, Catelyn and Talisa Stark's bodies.

"_Direwolf," Qyburn repeated. "That must be what the lead wolf was, too. It stayed far back from the pack, but it was enormous, even from the distance._

_Jon's head jerked up. "What? You saw a direwolf? What did it look like?"_

"_Lighter grey and white," Qyburn said. "It was as large as the other direwolf, Grey Wind."_

"_Nymeria?" Jon gasped. "Nymeria is still alive?"_

"_I don't know its name, your Grace, but it led me to Lady Catelyn's body," Qyburn explained. "From the marks on the body and the marks on the ground, the direwolf pulled Lady Catelyn's body from the river."_

_Jon stared at the ex-maester for a moment, processing the information he's just received. He blinked several times before he could finally form words._

"_Another Stark lives," Jon whispered._

"Direwolves," Brienne repeated. "Dragons and direwolves will battle against the Army of the Dead. They're both magical creatures. What about the other two animals in my dreams? What are the lion and the eagle's purposes?"

Podrick considered. "They were in your last dragon dream. Were they still fighting?"

She scowled down at the railing as she concentrated. "I don't think they were fighting anymore. They were lying still. I remember wondering about them in my dream. A mound of dragonglass shifted when the lion kicked out its hind leg."

"Where was the eagle?" Podrick prompted. "Was it still joined to the lion? Were they still red with blood?"

"Yes. After the lion kicked, the eagle rose on its front talons. Then it unfurled its wings with such force it threw dirt, blood and dragonglass into the air. I closed my eyes and shifted away to avoid being hit by the debris. That's when I woke up. There was something odd about them." Her voice trailed off as her scowl morphed into a thoughtful frown.

"Odd?' Podrick repeated. "In what way?"

"It was how they moved. The lion and the eagle were moving together, no longer fighting each other." She released her breath on a frustrated huff. "How can that be? They were enemies."

"Jon Snow has a reputation for building alliances among former enemies. He—"

Podrick broke off when the dragons screeched and rushed back to the deck. He pulled out his new sword and looked around wildly for what had upset them. The dragons' sudden descent made Olmar, high in his lookout perch, cry out a warning. Behind her, several Company men pulled their swords out of their belts. In seconds, the deck, which had been calm and quiet, was filled with men and dragons, all wound up with escalating tension.

"What happened?" Olmar called down.

"It's fine," Brienne yelled up to him. "They're just excited."

She pointed to the white marble towers of Evenfall Hall looming in the distance. She knelt to calm the five, who were screeching madly, unable to remain still.

Griff, with Ned only a step behind him, burst from the staircase. They already had _Dawn_ and _Starfall _in their hands. Several fighters encircled them and fanned out, turning outward to face the unknown threat. Brienne blinked and stared at the men. Their precise maneuver was so like the dragons' defensive stance that it stunned her.

"What's wrong?" Griff demanded. "What approaches?"

"No approach. It was the dragons," Olmar explained. "They suddenly came down from the sky."

Griff strode across to Brienne, sheathing his sword as he neared her. He looked down at the five, seeing them clustered around her. Though the dragons had come to the deck to her, they had their wings half-extended, as if intending to take flight at any second. They continued to screech as their flapping wings caused a breeze that tossed her hair around her face.

"What happened, Brienne? Why are the dragons so upset?" Griff brushed her hair back.

"They're fine," she reassured him. "I think they saw my father on the shore."

"My Lady Ser suggested she should send the dragons to Evenfall Hall before we dock." Podrick grinned at the anxious dragons. "Otherwise they'll be too excited to allow her near her father. I believe they share her eagerness to be with Lord Selwyn."

Griff let his hand fall from Brienne's face and looked to the shoreline. The city dock was tiny in the distance but clearly visible. He shook his head before kneeling to the dragons. His efforts to calm them were no more successful than Brienne's. The dragons whined, a sound they rarely made, as they sniffed the air. A few feet away, Ned released his breath and sheathed _Starfall_. Above them, Olmar signaled that all was well. Now, knowing there was no threat, the men put away their swords and relaxed.

Griff rose as the dragons ruffled their wings and strained their necks. The five were clearly eager to return to the sky and go to their grandfather. Brienne looked at them with sympathy.

"I want to send them to Father but they're too excited. They'll terrify people if they didn't calm down," she lamented.

"How long before we reach the pier, Olmar?" Griff called up.

"About ten minutes," the lookout reported. "The dock is open and will hold the _Sea Keeper._ I see our men on shore."

Griff looked at Brienne. "It'll take time to tie up before we can disembark. We should send two dragons to your father. My men won't be alarmed. That will give the people a chance to see the dragons are not a threat."

"Let's send Ardayn and Serdun," she suggested. "They're disciplined and will make a good impression on the residents. We'll have to hold tight to the others or they'll want to go, too."

Griff laughed and shook his head, more amused than annoyed by her warning. He, Brienne and Podrick knelt to hold Catren, Allwyn and Gallan. All five dragons screeched and whined as they sniffed at the air.

"Sovegon, Ardayn," Griff urged. "Sovegon, Serdun. Jikagon naejot Selwyn."

The two, the most restrained and independent of the five, didn't need the second command. They leapt off the deck and up into the sky. The men around them called out to them, comfortable with the dragons flying over and around them. Catren, Allwyn and Gallan squawked as they watched Serdun and Ardayn fly to the shore.

"At times like these, they don't appear to be fierce and dangerous creatures." Ned raised his hand to his forehead. He shaded his eyes as he followed their path through the sky. "They act like happy, excited children. I can almost forget they're dragons." He paused and looked down at the three dragons still on deck. "Almost."

"They haven't been this unsettled since they realized Brienne had left," Griff noted. "Then, they wouldn't allow me out of their sight. Now, they're desperate to fly from me."

Brienne smiled at Allwyn who strained in her arms. "They've picked up Father's scent hours ago and now they see him. We've been watching them taking turns flying to the island all morning. They don't understand he can't fly out to be with them."

"We'll be there soon," Griff reassured while holding Catren, who was calmer than Allwyn but still anxious. "The winds have been favorable. We'll arrive in time to join your father for a late lunch."

"Finally," Podrick's expression brightened and he hugged Gallan with excitement. "What was the command you gave them, your Grace?"

"Jikagon naejot," Griff repeated. "It means 'go to'. It was part of their training. I could direct them to a specific person. I often used it to send them to Tristan or Olmar, since they didn't understand north or south."

Podrick squinted his eyes. "Speaking of Tristan, is that him on the pier?"

"Dragons on shore!" Olmar reported.

Brienne rose with Allwyn held firmly in her arms. In the distance she could make out a group of men along the pier. Many wore golden tunics but there were others, including a tall man in Tarth blue. The figure in blue knelt as the dragons landed before him. Behind him, the tall man with flaming red hair also bent down. The _Golden Company _men held their positions but the other people broke away. They ran up the pier and disappeared behind the shipmaster's cabin.

"The dragons have a talent for dispersing a crowd, don't they?' Griff noted.

Ned nodded and shifted closer to the railing. He moved aside as Griff, with Catren in his arms, rose to stand beside Brienne. Podrick released Gallan and joined them. The blue dragon, who wasn't as impulsive as Catren and Allwyn, settled on the railing beside him. Gallan squawked but calmed as they sailed closer to the shore.

By the time the _Sea Keeper_ touched the dock, Ardayn and Serdun had been with Selwyn long enough to settle. They graciously returned to the ship's railing to allow Gallan and Catren to fly to Selwyn. Allwyn screeched angrily but Brienne didn't release her most impulsive dragon. It would monopolize Selwyn completely. He wouldn't be able to greet his guests, which her father would consider a shameful breach of propriety. Selwyn had taught her the importance of honor, duty, and service.

She studied her father as the ship docked and was secured. He looked strong and healthy, his laugher loud and booming as he knelt before Catren and Gallan. The dragons pressed into him, rubbing their heads against his hair, and swishing their tails on the wooden dock, squawking loudly. Behind him, Tristan grinned and said something to her father. Selwyn shook his head and held on to the dragons.

Griff's expression was impassive as he also watched their interaction. "They love your father."

"The dragons are so bonded to Lord Selwyn that they'll even stay with him," Podrick reported. "He cared for them on Dragonstone when we first left for the parlay in King's Landing."

Griff's indigo eyes narrowed. "Really?"

Brienne shifted her grip on Allwyn. "It was nice to have others they could hold during the first days after they arrived. Otherwise, I wouldn't have been able to train with Podrick or attend the parlay."

Griff maintained his calm expression, his indigo eyes flat. "It's good that the dragons have many people to care for them. I've just never seen them react so strongly to anyone other than the two of us."

"My father is a wonderful man." Brienne smiled fondly as her father grinned up at her. "He's the most accepting person I've ever known. It's no surprise the dragons love him as much as I do."

"Accepting." Griff repeated the word slowly, as if unsure of its meaning. "Do you think he'll accept me?"

Brienne turned from watching her father to stare at Griff. She saw Ned stiffen from his position beside Griff. The Lord of Starfall glanced at the Prince of Dorne then stepped back from the railing. She felt Podrick, on her other side, also step away from them. Even so, she continued to focus on her king.

"What do you mean, your Grace?" she questioned. "You're the Prince of Dorne, the rightful King of the Seven Kingdoms and commander of the army at his back. How can my father not accept you?"

Griff held her gaze, his face composed but his indigo eyes stormy. "I don't mean as a ruler or a commander but as a man. Will he accept _me_, Aegon Martell Targaryen?"

Brienne stilled and studied his expression. Normally, it was hard for her to read his thoughts but even she could see the uncharacteristic vulnerability in his eyes. He knew her father would be courteous and dutiful to a prince and a king. Carrying the blood of the dragon gave Griff great authority and privilege. He knew his bloodline afforded him accolades beyond those he himself had earned. It was a credit to the honorable, just man he truly was to accept his position without taking advantage of it.

"You aren't an ordinary man, your Grace," she stated quietly. "You accepted me as I am, helped me when I needed it, raised the dragons when I had to fulfill my duty and fought through fire to protect me. You're the reason my father still has his heir and five extraordinary grandchildren. He'll accept you without reservations."

Brienne smiled at Griff. How could he doubt his own value? Who else could have done all he'd done for her and the dragons? Griff was the embodiment of everything she'd prayed for all her life. He was a just king and had led her to a purposeful life. Something inside of her softened and warmed. She leaned closer to him.

Allwyn, still held in her arms, sensed her distraction. It used the opportunity to pull itself free. The blue-grey dragon shrieked and rose into the air. Brienne and Griff both lunged for Allwyn but it eluded them.

"Allwyn, māzigon naejot issa," Brienne scolded.

Allwyn screeched again, making its displeasure known. It didn't fly to Selwyn but it also refused to return to Brienne. She sighed and looked to the dock.

"Your Grace, I don't think Allwyn will be patient any longer." She nodded to the gangplank. "Perhaps we should disembark."

Griff nodded, the surprising vulnerability fading from his eyes. He stood straight and pulled at the hem of his brown leather jacket to smooth it out. His sigil was pressed into the leather over his heart and, when he turned around, painted on the back. The red, three-headed dragon held the spear that pierced the sun. He moved to the foot of the plank and paused while the men lined up behind him.

"Ready?" he prompted her.

Brienne nodded and fell into position at his back. Ned stood beside her while Podrick shifted to stand behind them. They all looked at Ardayn, Serdun and Allwyn. Ardayn and Serdun rose to hover over Brienne and Ned. Allwyn squawked again but flew to join them, positioning itself directly over Griff's head. Griff walked down the gangplank and they all followed him.

Selwyn straightened as the group came to him. Catren and Gallan rose and flew to join the other dragons. Griff stopped when he was within arm's length of Selwyn. The dragons, as disciplined as the Company men behind him, settled on the wooden deck with perfect precision, even Allwyn. Selwyn looked from the dragons to Brienne then finally to Griff.

"Your Grace, may I have the honor of introducing my father, Lord Selwyn of Tarth." Brienne stood tall and straight, as her father had taught her. "Father, this is his Grace, Aegon Martell Targaryen, the Prince of Dorne and the rightful King of the Seven Kingdoms."

"Your Grace, it's an honor to meet you at last." Selwyn bowed deeply.

"Arise, Lord Selwyn." Griff held out his hand. "It's a great pleasure to meet you, too. I've been curious about the man who raised Lady Ser Brienne. Your daughter admires you above all men."

Selwyn grasped Griff's forearm in a warrior's greeting. "I was equally curious to make your acquaintance. I've heard many great stories about you."

"Great?" Griff's eyebrows rose as he looked past Selwyn. "From Tristan?"

Tristan snorted. He wore the usual golden tunic and an armful of gold bands. He grinned and revealed his broken teeth. "Nah, not from me. I wouldn't want your head to swell. What would you do if you didn't have your fine looks to fall back on?"

Griff's eyes narrowed. "I'm your king."

"So what? This is Westeros," Tristan shot back. "They got another king every month."

Around them, the Company men snickered. Brienne shook her head and exchanged glances with Podrick. The dragons looked around, unaffected by Griff and Tristan's customary barbs. Selwyn and Ned, however, looked horrified. Their eyes were wide as they stared at Griff and Tristan. Selwyn cleared his throat to regain Griff's attention.

"Your Grace, Lord Jon has been kind enough to visit me," he explained. "He's justifiably proud of your achievements."

Griff looked around. "Is his lordship here?"

"He was," Tristan answered. "Then Ardayn and Serdun arrived. Lord Jon decided he liked the view from the shipmaster's cabin better."

Someone cleared their throat loudly. The men behind Selwyn and Tristan shifted aside to allow an older man to approach them. Brienne stared at the man who had raised Griff into the person he was today. Lord Jon was tall, nearly her father's height. His hair and beard were dark red streaked with grey. The ends of his hair brushed past his shoulders and were a brilliant blue. It was the same shade Griff had colored his hair when he'd been hiding his natural silver-blond. The man stopped beside Selwyn and stared uneasily at the dragons.

"Lord Jon." Griff walked over to greet him.

Griff smiled at the older man. His voice had warmed considerably as he addressed his guardian. He didn't wait for the lord to bow. Instead, Griff put his hand on Jon's shoulder.

"Your Grace." Jon smiled back.

No more words were exchanged between them but they stood so close together, they could almost embrace. Silence descended as they two men stared at each other, Griff still holding Jon's shoulder, sharing a silent conversation. Finally, the two broke apart. Griff motioned Brienne to join them.

"Brienne, I'd like you to meet Jon Connington, Lord of Storm's End and Lord Paramount of the Stormlands," he introduced.

"My Lor—" Brienne stopped before she could finish his title.

She stared in dumbfounded silence at the sigil on Jon Connington's jacket. Though he was the new Lord of Storm's End, the Lord Paramount still wore the sigil of his family's house. She didn't know why she was so shocked to see it. She'd seen it before, when Ronnet Connington had refused to marry her. The crest was half red, half white with opposing griffins.

_Griffins_. Magical creatures with the head, wings and front talons of an eagle and the body of a lion.

imgur gallery / bdqgWCa

_The eagle's hind claws had dug so deeply into the lion they could no longer be seen. Its wings covered down to the lion's front paw and maimed limb. The eagle's beak gouged deeply into the lion's head. It was almost as if the two animals were merging into one._

_The lion and the eagle were moving together, no longer fighting each other._

That's why the lion and the eagle were no longer battling in her last dragon dream. They had merged into a single fierce creature. Her last dragon dream didn't have four creatures. It only had _three_ magical, mythical creatures.

A dragon, a direwolf and a griffin.

Translations:

Jikagon naejot Selwyn = go to Selwyn

Allwyn, māzigon naejot issa = Allwyn, come to me

**Author's Note:** So, what do you think of this chapter? Was it worth the wait?

How many of you knew the merging eagle and lion would eventually become a griffin? Brienne is now SO CLOSE to identifying the three heads of the dragon, isn't she? She has a complication to address before she works out Jon Snow's true heritage.

It's very hard for me to write without a beta reader. My beta not only corrects spelling, grammar and sentence structure but also encourages me when I'm mired in the plot. I NEED feedback if you want me to continue writing. Please let me know what works or doesn't make sense or any other comments.


	59. Tarth Keeper

The Keeper

Chapter 59 – Tarth Keeper

Brienne continued to stare at the sigil on the new Lord Paramount's jacket. House Connington's ancestral seat was named Griffin's Roost to match the family's sigil. The dual griffins faced each other, two mythical creatures in transposed red and white. They combined the flight and ferocity of eagles with the strength and speed of lions. The griffins appeared almost to be laughing at her, at her obliviousness to the truth. It had been in front of her since that first moment she'd met 'Griff' on that dirty dock in Braavos.

"Brienne?" Griff crossed from Jon to come to her side. "What's the matter?"

Beside her, Selwyn drew an audible breath. "Please forgive my daughter. The fault is mine, your Grace, my Lord. I didn't prepare her for your arrival, Jon."

Jon frowned. "Prepare? Why would you need to prepare her? I've never met your daughter."

"No, it's not you," Selwyn assured hurriedly. "It was long ago, when your nephew Ronnet came to meet her."

Heat rushed through Brienne, causing her blood to throb audibly in her ears. Color flushed her face and the sour taste of humiliation burned in the back of her throat. Ronnet's rejection was so long ago it didn't have the power to hurt her anymore. What did hurt was knowing the _Golden Company_ men would now hear of her embarrassment.

The dragons, picking up on her spiking emotions, shrieked and rose. The five, who'd been sitting quietly behind her, now landed in front of her. They formed a barrier between Griff and his guardian, separating their family from the new Lord Paramount. They extended their wings and puffed up their bodies, making themselves as threatening as possible. The five, already excited and volatile, screeched at the man who had caused their mother to experience such pain.

Around them, the Company men stiffened, their hands going to their sword. The dragons focused only on the Lord Paramount. He gasped at the deadly threat lined up against him. His eyes widened and he stumbled back, losing his balance. He fell backwards, putting out his hands to support himself, landing on the rough wood with an audible cry. His right hand appeared to have taken the brunt of the fall. He landed on his backside but clutched his hand. Allwyn hissed and advanced on the fall lord.

"Allwyn!" Brienne gasped.

She forgot her humiliation as she pulled the furious blue-grey dragon into her arms, blocking its access to the fallen lord. Immediately, Podrick and Griff knelt beside her to hold the other dragons. Ned and the Company men all stepped back, putting distance between themselves and the irate dragons. Tristan helped Jon to his feet and put the Lord Paramount behind his back.

Selwyn held up his hands as if he could physically push back the mounting tension. "Forgive me, Jon. This is my fault. The dragons are very protective of Brienne."

"I've never seen them act like this," Tristan noted. "What did this shit Ronnet do?"

"It doesn't matter." Griff kept a firm hold on Catren and Gallan. "Lord Jon, did you hurt your damaged hand?"

Brienne rose with Allwyn in her arms. She now saw that the Lord Paramount wore a black leather glove over his right hand while his left hand was bare. He supported the injured hand by laying it across his other forehand.

"It's fine," Jon assured, twisting his mouth into a smile that looked more like a grimace. "I've had worse days."

"I'm very sorry, Lord Jon, for my and my dragons' behavior." Brienne stroked Allwyn's long neck, between the rows of spikes, to calm it. "Please know that they're normally very well behaved."

Allwyn, responding to her polite tone and easing emotions, also relaxed. All five dragons calmed and softened their aggressive stances. They folded in their wings and no longer strained against Podrick and Griff's holds. Even so, the four other dragons still formed a line between Brienne and Lord Paramount. Brienne transferred Allwyn to her father. The blue-grey dragon squawked and went eagerly to Selwyn. He hugged the dragon tightly while Allwyn wrapped its tail around his waist. Selwyn held its weight easily and murmured something that soothed the dragon.

Brienne walked past the dragons' defensive line. They hissed but didn't try to pull away from Griff or Podrick. She looked around grimly. Now, not only were the _Golden Company_ men and Ned watching then, some of the residents had begun to creep out of hiding. She'd lost control of the situation and embarrassed her father in front of his people and a dear friend. Her father was a good man and deserved respect. She would not allow her family to be shamed because of her. She took a deep breath and stopped an arm's length away from the new Lord of Storm's End.

She bowed. "Lord Jon, it's an honor to meet you at last. My father and his Grace speak highly of you."

If he was shocked by her lack of feminine poise or her brawny, masculine appearance, Jon didn't show it. He stood tall and proud, as the Lord Paramount and king's guardian should, and nodded his head. His image of the gracious and powerful lord was marred only slightly by his supporting his injured hand.

"Lady Ser Brienne." He nodded his head regally. "It's indeed a pleasure to meet my friend's daughter; the first woman to be bestowed knighthood and the mother of dragons."

"No, my Lord. Daenerys Stormborn is the Mother of Dragons," Brienne corrected gently. "These five are born of her and her dragon's blood. I'm merely their keeper."

"There is no 'merely' when one raises dragons," Jon insisted. "Blood won't compensate for a lack of courage, discipline or honor. You and I have taken on an important responsibility. The world needs these dragons for its very survival."

His gaze shifted from her to Griff behind her, who was still holding Catren and Gallan. Brienne looked from Lord Paramount to rightful King of Westeros and gasped softly. He was right. They were both keepers of dragons. She was gifted with five creatures of magic while he had raised the secret dragon, the prince that was promised. Griff and Podrick rose to their feet. The four dragons were calm again, looking from Griff to his guardian. Jon looked curiously at Podrick, the only other person the dragons allowed to hold them.

"My Lord, may I present my squire, Podrick Payne."

Podrick looked anxious as Brienne put her hand on his shoulder and urged him forward. Still, he stood straight and bowed politely. She watched Jon's gaze travel over Podrick's Tarth blue jerkin and to the red and blue checked belt and sword sheath that hung from his waist.

"Payne," Jon repeated. "Of House Payne of the Westerlands? Your house has pledged to House Lannister, isn't it?"

"Y…yes, m…my Lord," Podrick stuttered. "I'm fr…fro…from a less…lesser branch."

The dragons hissed, picking up on Podrick's anxiety. Brienne shifted so he was hidden behind her back. "Podrick is extremely loyal, my Lord. I trust him with my life. More importantly, I trust him with the dragons' lives."

Jon Connington was Lord Paramount and thus held Selwyn – and Tarth's – loyalty. Even so, she wouldn't allow anyone to hurt or doubt her squire. Podrick had been at her side through battles, cold and injury. He had _earned_ her trust and loyalty. She protected her family above all else. The dragons also felt the same way. Ardayn and Serdun leaned into Podrick and pressed against his legs, clearly indicating where their affections lay. Griff looked from the dragons to Podrick then moved to stand beside his guardian and waved to Ned.

"Lord Jon, this is my cousin, Lord Ned Dayne of Starfall," he introduced.

Ned stepped forward. "My Lord."

Jon nodded to the young Lord of Starfall but didn't extend his hand. Judging from the careful way he supported his damaged hand, the injury must be severe.

"Lord Ned, it's a pleasure."

"The pleasure is mine, Lord Jon." Ned glanced at the dragons as he gingerly walked past their defensive line. "I understand you knew my family."

Jon nodded then his eyes widened as Ned stopped before him. For a few seconds, the Lord Paramount was still then he blinked rapidly, as if clearing his vision.

"Ashara," he whispered. "You have Ashara's eyes."

Ned's violet eyes darkened. "Yes, so I've been told, my Lord."

Jon's mouth drooped and sadness pulled at his features. "Lord Ned, I knew your family well, especially your Aunt Ashara. She was Princess Elia's closest confidante. Her death was a terrible tragedy in a terrible time, coming so soon after Ser Arthur's death. I also met your dear mother and father when they came to court. Please accept my deepest condolences for your losses."

Ned swallowed visibly before he spoke. "Thank you, my Lord."

Both men lowered their eyes. Ned looked down at the dragons, who sniffed the air, sensitive to the deep sadness the lords shared. Podrick, also a sensitive soul, shivered from behind Brienne's back. The Lord Paramount also lowered his eyes. His body became rigid when his gaze fell on Ned's sword. His eyes widened when he shifted to look at _Dawn_ hanging from Griff's belt.

"Ser Arthur's sword." Jon drew a deep breath and met Griff's gaze. "It's been said that _Dawn_ only arises when the darkness is at its greatest. The death of the previous _Sword of the Morning _was a loss no one expected. Ser Arthur was the greatest knight in the Seven Kingdoms, if not the entire world."

Griff looked at Ned then rested his hand over the starburst hilt of _Dawn_. "The darkness is almost upon us, Lord Jon. We've already battled the dead and face even darker days ahead, if the Long Night falls over the world again."

Griff's sobering words sent a chill through Brienne. Ardayn and Serdun immediately moved closer to her, sensing her rising anxiety. They looked at the new Lord Paramount but didn't puff up against him. Around them, the Company men shifted uneasily. They had seen the aftermath of the battle of King's Landing but hadn't fought the horror of the Wights. Selwyn, with Allwyn in his arms, looked from the dragon named after him to nod to Griff.

"Your Grace, we've prepared a luncheon in Evenfall Hall." He looked around at the Company men. "We also have several fine taverns in town. The men stationed here are familiar with them. With your permission, I'd like to welcome your men to enjoy the warmth of our island and our people."

"An excellent idea, my lord," Griff agreed. "I'm sure the men not assigned to duties will enjoy a good ale and a hot meal. Thank you for your hospitality."

Brienne and Podrick knelt with the dragons as Griff organized the Company men. The few residents brave enough to wait near the docks also hurried away. The small pier emptied quickly as the men headed for the various establishments. Tristan tried to follow but Griff snagged him by the back of his shirt.

"Not you, _Lord_ Tristan," Griff insisted. "You stay with your king, as all good lords do."

"Why?" Tristan demanded. "You need me to hold your hand to walk you up to the hill?"

"It's a manageable walk," Selwyn assured. "But we've also saddled horses, if you prefer."

Selwyn spoke up hurriedly, apparently unaccustomed to Griff and Tristan's abrasive exchanges. Too many years of ineffective rulers full of bluster and self-importance had taught the Westerosi lords that kings rarely tolerated dissent. Often, they not only punished the offender, but witnesses as well. Her father was acting to defuse tensions, not understanding that Tristan only pushed as hard as Griff allowed him to.

Tristan snickered, delighted to push even harder. "I hope you brought cushions, Lord Selwyn. His Grace's hasn't sat on a horse in over a year. His arse is probably tender after weeks of sleeping on fine sheets in the Red Keep."

The men still on duty, accustomed to their sharp barbs, snickered. The three lords, however, glared at Tristan. Brienne sighed and shared a knowing glance with Podrick. The dragons, also used to their banter, looked from Tristan to Griff, as if following their exchange.

"I can strip you of your lands and title," Griff warned.

"You can't even strip me of my shirt." Tristan stood tall and crossed his arms, bunching his muscles. "For your sake, I hope that's not true for everyone. Dragons can't be your only heirs."

Dark color flushed into Griff's face as he glared at Tristin's unrepentant smirk. Selwyn's mouth dropped open while Ned drew in his breath on a harsh gasp. Jon Connington's face stiffened as he frowned at Tristan. The men around them jostled each other as they rushed off to their assigned duties. Brienne tightened her grip on Ardayn and Serdun while Podrick ducked his head between Catren and Gallan's necks. The pier quieted as the men hurried back to the _Sea Keeper_ and others moved to stations around the dock.

Their quick exit revealed Varys standing silently in the shadow of the _Sea Keeper_. The Spider, as was his nature, was quiet and observant, watching the events without appearing to participate. Brienne now knew his demeanor was a carefully crafted illusion. The former master of whispers seemed soft and nonthreatening, but Varys was one of the deftest players in Westerosi power games.

"Lord Varys," Jon called. "You've changed."

Varys ran his hand over his newly growing silver-blond stubble as he came to join them. "Lord Jon, it's good to see you again. Yes, I stopped shaving my hair." He shuddered theatrically. "My skin is delicate. It irritates easily."

Tristan snorted again. The Lord Paramount ignored him to focus on his co-conspirator, the man who had helped him protect and raise a secret Targaryen. Varys stopped when he was beside the dragons but didn't look down at the five. Instead, he held Jon's gaze.

"Finally, after all these years of silence and secrets, you've fulfilled your promise to his mother." Jon's voice throbbed with emotion. "You kept her son safe to claim his heritage."

"You were the one who sacrificed your reputation and defied your family to honor his father's memory," Varys responded, his voice equally thick. "You raised Rhaegar's son to be a great leader and an honorable man."

The two continued to stare at each other, lost in memories of their shared past. Griff, the reason for their combined efforts, stilled as he watched their silent exchange. The dragons, disturbed by the powerful emotions passing between the two lords, began to fidget. They leaned into Brienne, Podrick and Griff for comfort. Allwyn buried its face into Selwyn's neck, as if trying to hide from the intensity. Tristan, however, wasn't moved by their emotions. He put his hands on his hips and scowled.

"This ain't a time for harps and songs," he warned. "You're forgetting there's another king out there. A king north of the Wall made of ice and magic. This Night King can deny your pretty prince his Iron Throne, no matter how honorable or great he is."

The shock of his words affected everyone. They all stilled, understanding the precarious position they were in. Griff reacted quickest. He turned to face Tristan as he leaned down to put his hands on Catren and Gallan. Jon and Varys also broke free of their reverie to focus on Tristan's warning.

"I can't believe I'm saying this but Tristan is right." Griff agreed. "Titles and thrones won't matter if we don't defeat the Army of the Dead. Lord Selwyn, you said you found the weapon buried outside Brienne's birthing chamber. Where is it now?"

"It's still where we found it, your Grace. It's being guarded by your men. I'll take you to inspect it before we have our meal. As I wrote in my scroll, there's a complication." Selwyn knelt to release Allwyn.

Allwyn cried out and continued to cling to Selwyn. He focused his attention on soothing the blue-grey dragon. Podrick knelt to help Selwyn unwind Allwyn's tail from around his waist. The Jon's face went slack as he watched them coax the irate dragon into releasing Selwyn. Ned, who stood beside the Lord Paramount, smiled.

"I understand how you feel, my Lord," Ned assured him. "These are five of the most dangerous creatures in the world, fire made flesh. It's disconcerting to see them acting like young, overtired children demanding attention."

Jon tore his attention away from Allwyn to meet Ned's sympathetic gaze. "How long did it take until their behavior no longer startled you?"

Ned shrugged. "It hasn't. I've been around the dragons for over a fortnight and I'm still startled by them. Their emotional range is extraordinary and they understand intent. They won't harm you, if they know you're not a threat to them or those they love."

"They won't even harm Tristan," Griff pointed out. "No matter how much he annoys me."

"You need me," Tristan insisted. "A man who only has people kissing his arse has no one to guard his head."

Jon nodded approvingly. "You've been paying attention to Lord Selwyn's instructions. That's good."

Selwyn, now free of Allwyn, straightened. "Lord Tristan is a quick learner. Speaking of which, shall we go to Evenfall Hall? The situation will be clearer once you see what we've found."

Griff nodded, his ire with Tristan immediately forgotten. The others also turned their attention to the Lord of Tarth. The dragons, picking up on the shifting mood, straightened and looked up at Brienne. She frowned at the serious expression on her father's face.

"Is the weapon safe, Father?" she asked anxiously.

"We're not sure," Selwyn admitted. He lowered his voice. "I prefer not to talk about it here. The _Golden Company_ has been monitoring ships and sailors but we still have tradespeople here. Shall I have the horses brought out?"

Tristan made an odd sound, a cross between a snort and a snicker. Brienne sighed heavily while Podrick wisely looked down to hide his expression. Ned and Jon looked from Tristan to Griff, waiting for his reaction. Griff's eyes narrowed as he glared at Tristan.

"We'll walk, Lord Selwyn. Your horses aren't accustomed to being around dragons. Plus, I don't want to force them to bear the weight of Lord Tristian's protruding belly."

"It's all muscle!" Tristan stood up straight.

Selwyn looked nervously at Brienne then carefully ignored their exchange. Griff moved down the dock and waited for Selwyn to join him. The pair led the way as they left the dock and walked into town. Jon, joined by Ned and Varys, followed them. Brienne, Podrick and Tristan walked behind the lords. The dragons took to the sky, flying in wide circles as the group made their way along the main street towards Evenfall Hall. The path on both sides was guarded by Company men, freeing the dragons from their usual guard duty. Even so, there was always one dragon directly overhead.

Most people kept their distance, ducking into shops or alleyways as the dragons' cries filled the air. Others, attracted or dumbstruck by the five, watched open-mouthed and wide-eyed. Even so, most managed to bend low as Griff and Selwyn walked by. Though they appeared focused on their conversation, the rightful King of the Seven Kingdoms and Lord of Tarth looked upon the assembled people, and occasionally smiled or nodded.

"So, Griffin's Roost is on Shipbreaker Bay, beyond Storm's End," Tristan noted casually.

"Yes, it is." Brienne gave him a sideways glance. "You're learning the geography of Westeros?"

"Mostly the Stormlands and the areas around the Straits of Tarth," Tristan agreed. "The Roost is only a day's sail from here. I can find this Ronnet and show him what happens when he goes after one of us. Or did you take care of him yourself?"

_One of us_. Warmth bloomed in her heart as she looked at the fierce scowl on his face. Tristan didn't know what had happened, only that she'd been upset by it. That was enough for him to defend her. She was a member of the _Golden Company_. The Company protected their own.

"A friend took care of it," she admitted. "It's in the past now. Tell me about your lands. You're a lord now."

"Aye. Lord Jon gave me Parchments. Do you know it?"

"Yes, it's the closest castle to Tarth. It belonged to House Penrose." Brienne sighed. "The elderly lord was frail and lost all his family in the War of the Five Kings." She brightened. "It's a good keep. The Straits are gentle there, allowing for fishing and crabbing. The worry is pirates, being almost on the Narrow Sea."

Tristan snorted. "I know how to protect a castle but I don't know how to run it. Lord Jon's been busy with the mess left behind in Storm's End. Then all the ships started arriving at Evenfall. He suggested I come here to help your father and take his tutul, tutul…"' He scowled as her was unable to pronounce the word he wanted to use.

"Tutelage?" Podrick supplied, moving at a brisk pace to match their longer legs. "I'm under my Lady Ser's tutelage to become a great knight, like her."

"My Lady Ser," Tristan repeated. "It ain't enough to be _Golden Company_, a Kingsguard, the dragons' keeper and Gods' warrior? You had to become a knight, too?"

The hated blush heated her face. "I didn't ask for it. Daenerys did it after the dragons found over two hundred Valyrian steel swords."

Tristan snorted again. "You mean she did it after you took all the dragons and the Iron Throne. She can't fight you. What would she have done if you'd taken the throne for yourself?"

Brienne was so shocked by the idea that she nearly stumbled. "Me? I'm the Gods' instrument, a knight, and an officer. I fulfill the Gods' will. It's my duty to serve the Gods, my king, and my Company. It's not my place to lead."

"Sometimes the best way to serve is to lead," Tristan insisted. "Your father said that. Someone has to be in charge or things don't get done. He said a firm hand can be the greatest kindness."

"Speaking of hands, what happened to Lord Jon's hand?" Podrick asked.

Tristan looked at the Lord Paramount. Jon was walking between Ned and Varys, his head bent as he listened to what Ned was saying. He was still holding his right hand cradled in his left but seemed focused on Ned.

"I think he should be the one to tell you about that," Tristan said quietly.

Brienne frowned at Tristan. A shuttered expression crossed his face, his mouth pressed in a flat line and his eyes narrowed. The big man was normally open and cheerful, usually even blunt. What had occurred to Jon Connington to cause Tristan to close off like this? Brienne turned back to study the new Lord of Storm's End. The hand was gloved, meaning he was hiding the extent or appearance of the injury. He cradled his damaged hand easily, which meant he'd developed a habit of holding it. The damage had to have occurred a while ago. It was significant enough that Griff had worried about it. However, the Lord Paramount had put his hand out when he'd fallen on the dock. That indicated he still had some use of the hand or arm.

She put aside her curiosity about the Lord Paramount's hand when they came to the front courtyard of Evenfall Hall. Selwyn led them around the side to the back of the main castle. The view of Tarth's majestic mountains was awe-inspiring. As the other's admired Tarth's beauty, Brienne noted the increased number of guards, both Company and her father's men. The men all bowed as Griff and Selwyn walked past them. The Tarth men also cast anxious glances into the sky, where the dragons circled overhead. Their group turned the corner and Brienne gasped at what she saw.

Nearly the whole courtyard had been torn apart. Neat piles of bricks were stacked along one side. Mounds of dirt and rocks lay on both sides of the excavation that ran the width of the building. Guards stood on either end and several patrolled along the courtyard wall. The temperature was noticeably cooler now, even though the hot summer sun still shone brightly. A cry from the trees beyond the courtyard caught their attention. Everyone turned to look at the forest beyond the courtyard walls.

A dozen silver eagles watched them from perches in the highest branches of the trees just past the courtyard. Their glossy silver-blond feathers reflected light as their heads flicked from the guards to the newcomers, then up to the sky. The birds were bigger than any eagles she'd seen before, with powerful wings almost as wide as the dragons' wings. Brienne looked up at the five. The dragons flew above them, uncharacteristically quiet as they observed the birds observing them.

"I saw only one pair when I was last here." She studied the powerful birds of prey. "When did the others arrive?

"Soon after we found the object," Selwyn answered. "We think they were drawn to it. They way they're always here, it's almost as if they're also guarding it."

"Guarding it," Griff repeated. His voice was curiously flat, as if he was trying to suppress his reaction. "What have they been doing?"

"Just watching," Selwyn explained. "They don't do anything other than watch or hunt. We found one nest when Brienne was last here but we haven't found the others yet. I've forbidden my people from harming them." His gaze shifted to Brienne. "They're part of Brienne's legacy."

Deep sadness darkened Selwyn's eyes. An ache throbbed in her throat as she recalled seeing the silver eagles on her last visit.

"_Silver eagles?" Brienne shaded her eyes with her hand. "I don't recall ever seeing silver eagles in Tarth."_

"_It's been a long time since they were last here. The last time I recall seeing them was before we lost your mother." Selwyn's voice was heavy with remembered pain._

"_Father, when did the silver eagles first appear in Tarth? Was it during my life?" she asked._

_Selwyn thought. "Yes, it was. I remember you were in your mother's arms, not yet walking, when she called me to see them." Haunting sadness pulled at the corners of his mouth. "She was so excited. She said the eagles had come to meet you because House Mallister was as much her children's blood as House Tarth."_

The ache intensified as Brienne looked around at the eagles. House Mallister had hidden a secret dragon, had kept Allyna safe to birth the daughter who'd become the future Gods' warrior. Now, the weapon buried outside her birthing room had drawn the silver eagles back to Tarth. Was there more to House Mallister than she knew?

"The eagles are enormous. The dragons should see them as a threat but they aren't bothered by them." Podrick noted. "Why is that?"

He looked to Brienne but she shook her head. She didn't understand why the dragons weren't threatened by the eagles. At the same time, the eagles weren't bothered by the dragons, either. She turned to Griff to gauge his reaction. Her king had none. Griff's expression was carefully blank, hiding his thoughts. He looked from the eagles to the dragons then back again.

"That's not the only thing odd about these eagles," Selwyn's voice became grim. "We've been watching them as they watch us. Sometimes they come as close as the courtyard wall. Their eyes aren't always golden."

"Are you saying their eyes change colors?" Ned demanded.

"No, sometimes their eyes lose color," Selwyn corrected.

"I've seen it," Tristan confirmed. "Sometimes their eyes turn white."

"Then what do they do?" Podrick shifted closer to Brienne.

"Nothing." Tristan shrugged. "They just continue to watch."

Brienne stared at the flock of eagles. What could cause the birds to change their eye colors? For that matter, why were they on Tarth? Had the increasing magic in the world, or the magic emanating from the uncovered weapon, attracted them? Were these eagles, far larger than any eagles she'd ever seen, creatures of magic like dragons and direwolves?

Brienne dragged her gaze away from the eagles to look around. The guards glanced at the eagle sentries but kept their positions. They were still guarding the weapon they'd come to retrieve. She walked to the edge of the pit. The chill seemed to become stronger with every step. The pit was so deep, even Tristan would be hidden if he were standing at the bottom. There was only more dirt and rocks inside. She looked back up at her father.

"I don't see a weapon," she noted. "You said you found the weapon."

"No, I said we found the object, but it's not a weapon." Selwyn corrected.

The others came to join them. They also peered down into the deep trench that had been dug. The bright sunshine shone into the pit, warming the turned soil and illuminating every nook. Still the sense of cold persisted. Brienne noticed Jon Connington holding his damaged hand closer to his body, as if the pain had increased. Podrick and Ned rubbed their hands along their opposite arms while Varys tucked his hands into his sleeves. Selwyn pointed to a rock near the center.

Disappointment settled like a crushing weight upon her heart. "Father, that's just a rock."

Selwyn shook his head. "No, it's not. Rock doesn't cause men's hands to blister when they touch it. Rock doesn't weigh twice as much as its size would indicate. Rocks don't draw massive birds of prey to guard it. That's not a rock." Selwyn's bright blue eyes glowed as he looked at her. "That is ice and magic."

_Ice and magic_. The disappointed pressing against Brienne's heart morphed into dismay. Ice and magic were what the Night King was made of. The army of men had brave fighters, dragons and Valyrian steel. They also had _Dawn_, the magical sword of the stars. The Gods were on their side. She was their warrior, the instrument of their will. She had hoped the Gods were giving them another weapon, one powerful enough to finally end the Long Night.

Had they, instead, revealed a tool that _strengthen_ the Night King?

**Author's Note:** So, what do you think of the secret found on Tarth? Was it what you expected? How can the army of men use it?

Next up: Brienne has time to think and comes to the same shocking conclusion we already know: her king has been lying to her!


	60. Griffin Keeper

The Keeper

Chapter 60 – Griffin Keeper

They gathered in Selwyn's study after the meal. Podrick and Tristan went to sit before Selwyn's desk, framed by the massive windows that overlooked the back courtyard. Brienne, Griff, Ned, Varys and Jon settled around the great hearth. Everyone looked on quietly as Selwyn spoke to his steward. The man stood just outside the room, in the open doorway. Company men were outside the windows and patrolling the halls.

Catren immediately staked its claim to Griff and settled in his lap. Gallan, affectionate but not as demanding, made itself comfortable on the settee between Brienne and Griff, laying its head in Brienne's lap. Ardayn and Serdun prowled around the room, preferring to explore rather than cuddle with their family. Allwyn, who would normally have demanded attention, ignored the others. It sat in the center of the room with its reptilian gaze fixed on Selwyn and the steward.

Allwyn's focused stare clearly made the poor steward anxious. The older man nodded at his lord's instructions but his focus was on the dragon. His breaths were audible even from across the room. The steward broke out into a sweat as Ardayn and Serdun prowled closer to the main door. He shook visibly and inched further out into the hall with each nod. Selwyn matched his movements and continued with his orders. They glanced at the dragons but weren't disturbed by them. Selwyn finally released the poor man, who practically ran from the room when dismissed.

"No one will disturb us," Selwyn assured as he came to join them.

"You needn't inform your steward to assure our privacy, Lord Selwyn." Podrick, who was seated in one of the two chairs facing Selwyn's massive marble-topped desk, grinned up at the Lord of Tarth. "I don't think anyone wants to risk the wrath of dragons."

"Very true, Podrick." Selwyn knelt to embrace Ardayn and Serdun briefly then released them to roam freely. "But it's only fair to be clear on what we expect of others. People perform better when they understand how to respond. Good leaders set proper expectations to better ensure their desired outcomes."

Podrick nodded gravely. "Excellent advice, my Lord."

Brienne suppressed a smile when she saw Tristan nod along with Podrick. Her squire and the new Lord of Parchment eagerly soaked in Selwyn's guidance. Her father was generous with his assistance, patient about his instructions and fair in his expectations. Wise men listened to the advice of honorable, admired men like Selwyn Tarth.

Jon Connington also had a faint smile on his face as he observed Selwyn's patient teaching. The Lord Paramount of the Stormlands was also an honorable man. He'd sacrificed his reputation to protect and raise Rhaegar's son. Now he was working to strengthen Griff's command over the Stormlands and his kingship of Westeros.

Selwyn walked over to the thickly cushioned chair next to his old friend's, a match to the seat Jon occupied. Selwyn had barely bent to sit before Allwyn sprang on him. The blue-grey dragon leapt up and landed against Selwyn with such force, he fell into the chair. Selwyn grunted as the dragon settled its full weight upon him.

"Allwyn!" Brienne gasped.

"Allwyn, be kind to my old bones," Selwyn scolded but laughed at the same time.

Allwyn screeched in victory and laid against Selwyn's chest. The blue-grey dragon wrapped its tail around his waist and rubbed its head against his hair. It was an act of pure possession, a bid to monopolize all of Selwyn's attention. Allwyn made it clear to all that it would not share its grandfather.

Jon Connington, seated beside them, gasped and shrank away, his uninjured hand coming up to shield his face. It was the instinctive reaction of a man trying to protect himself from a deadly threat. Brienne understood. She'd done the same when she'd first confronted Drogon. Gallan's head in her lap prevented her from rising but she leaned forward and held out her hand.

"Allwyn won't hurt you, my Lord," she assured him. "It's partial to Father and still upset that it was last to greet him."

"We'll make up for it now." Selwyn soothed as he stroked Allwyn's back, between the rows of spikes. "Won't we, little one?"

Selwyn's gentle voice contrasted with his fiercely blue eyes as he looked up from the dragon to glare at his daughter. Brienne blinked rapidly, startled by her father's angry expression. Beside her, Gallan raised its head to also look at the Lord of Tarth.

"Father?" Brienne questioned.

"Now, explain to me what happened in King's Landing." Selwyn's eyes were dark and furious, but his voice was calm. "_Especially_ how you and Serdun almost died battling against the dead."

Now she understood. Of course, her father was upset. She'd written to him immediately after the battle to assure him they were well. The stories and songs of the battle would have exaggerated with each telling. Her father must have heard fantastical tales of ice and magic, fire and blood, and even salacious, invented details about her near-naked walk through the city.

"Father…" she began.

"I'll hear it from Podrick," her father interrupted. "I won't force you to recount such a painful ordeal. Losing a child or almost losing one, it…"

Selwyn broke off, pressing his lips together. Her father had endured the deaths of his beloved wife and son and the uncertainty of her fate. Tears suddenly sprang into Brienne's eyes. She blinked them back determinedly. Podrick rose to join them. He was quiet and factual as he stood before the unlit hearth, telling her father about all that had occurred in the capital city. Brienne remained silent, quietly stroking Gallan's head, as her squire recalled the extraordinary events of the past few weeks. Hearing Podrick tell their tale allowed her distance to review the events, as if she was only a listener who hadn't participated in the battle.

Jon Connington, Selwyn and even Tristan remained silent as they listened to the details of the fall of Queen Cersei, the rise of Queen Daenerys, the return of King Aegon and the battle against the Army of the Dead. Griff, Ned, and Varys added to the narration with details Podrick missed. By the time they finished, all the dragons had fallen asleep. Allwyn and Catren were curled up in Selwyn and Griff's arms. Gallan's head rested heavy in Brienne's lap while Ardayn and Serdun had stretched out in front of the hearth. The dragons were so tired they didn't even stir when Podrick slid between them.

"They woke early and wore themselves out today," he noted, laying his hands on their backs. "They've been so excited since they picked up your scent, Lord Selwyn."

Selwyn's expression was dazed and it seemed as though he could barely process what he had heard. His lips were parted, eyes unfocused and he'd stilled, holding Allwyn as if the dragon needed his arms to shield it. Brienne frowned with concern. Until now, she'd only seen such an expression on people who'd been severely beaten or dealt life-altering shocks.

"Father, are you well?" she inquired anxiously.

Hearing her voice seemed to break him out of the daze. He turned to look at her and his hand resumed stroking along Allwyn's spine.

"My daughter, the Gods' warrior." Even his voice was dazed, as tight and dull as his expression. "How did this happen?"

"Selwyn, she was already the dragons' keeper," Jon pointed out gently. "That alone should have told you hers was not an ordinary path."

"Having dragons has never been a direct path to the Gods," Selwyn pointed out. "The Valyrians had dragons for thousands of years. They used them to enslave and destroy whole civilizations in their lust for gold. The Doom ended their bloody reign. Only Baelor the Blessed, the most devout of the Targaryens, claimed to hear the Gods."

"Baelor wasn't blessed." Griff snorted. "He fasted himself into stupidity. The fool went without food and water for such long periods that he'd become delirious and begun to hear whispers. He raised illiterates and street urchins to the position of High Septon, stayed chaste throughout his entire marriage and prayed over dragon eggs to try to birth dragons. He didn't have the mental or physical capability to be a stable ruler, let alone the Gods' warrior."

"What must the Gods' warrior do, Brienne?" Selwyn questioned. "Am I to lose my last child to the Gods' will?"

Brienne leaned closer, mindful of Gallan resting its head in her lap. "Father, the Night King is a terrible threat to us all. If we don't defeat this enemy, every child might die, and may become a part of the Army of the Dead."

"But why you, Brienne?" Selwyn persisted. "Why not someone else? Why must this be your fate?"

There was a profound sadness in her father's expression. Selwyn believed in duty and had spent his entire life as a man of honor. He'd even allowed his daughter, his only remaining heir, to leave Tarth to serve in Renly's army, as was his duty to his liege lord. Brienne opened her mouth but closed it without speaking. She could find no words to comfort her father.

Podrick cleared his throat. "Lord Selwyn, you taught me the Lords of Tarth believe that honor, duty and service are the cornerstones of good leadership. I've seen enough of the world to know that such belief, while noble, is rare. Even so, my Lady Ser tries to live by it every day. Being the Gods' warrior, the keeper of the dragons and _Lightbringer_ is a natural extension of being the Evenstar's heir."

Selwyn grew thoughtful as he considered Podrick's words. Brienne smiled at her squire, grateful that he'd been able to find words to help her father understand and accept her path. Podrick blushed but smiled back. Griff shifted Catren in his lap so he could also lean forward.

"Take heart, Lord Selwyn." Griff's voice was calm and bracing. "Your family words are 'Ours is the light.' You're father to the _Lightbringer_. She is the light that will lead the army of men out of the Long Night. I _believe_ in Brienne."

"This isn't because of anything my Lady Ser did. It's who she was born to be," Podrick insisted, loyal as always. "A saltwater priest told us that her destiny was foretold in the stars before she was born. A star is now laid bare in your courtyard, attracting silver eagles and magic, proof of the Gods' will."

Selwyn was quiet, absorbing their words. Brienne's heart ached as she observed her father. She knew the fear he felt because she felt it, too. She'd lost all reason when Serdun had fallen at the tourney field outside King's Landing. She felt it daily from knowing the young dragons would have to fight in the Great War. Dwelling on what could not be changed was unproductive. They needed to focus on what they could change and possibly control.

"The star has been laid bare but what good is it?" Brienne questioned. "Father says no one can touch the rock without injury. Even if we could pick it up, what will we do with it? Throw it at the Night King? What kind of useless weapon is this?"

"Brienne, what did you expect it to be?" Griff chided. "A sword or a spear?"

"Yes," she scowled. "I thought it would be a weapon, like _Dawn_. Then we could use it to defend ourselves or attack the Army of the Dead."

"_Dawn_ was forged from the heart of a fallen star," Ned pointed out. "I doubt it appeared as a blade that never dulls. It was fashioned to be so."

Brienne stilled, color rushing into her face. Of course! She'd been so upset to see what appeared to be a plain rock that she'd forgotten logic. _Dawn_ had become a sword, like the Night King's magical weapon had become a spear. The star was only the raw material.

"It takes a talented blacksmith to forge a good steel sword," Tristan noted. "No one knows how to forge Valyrian steel anymore. Where can we find a smith capable of forging a sword from ice and magic?"

"North of the Wall," Varys replied, his tone grim. "If our theory is correct, the Night King forged a weapon out of the red comet that fell four years ago."

"The Night King is thousands of years old and a creature of magic itself." Podrick's voice was barely more than a whisper. "We don't have access to his magic."

"Nor do we want the Night King to have this rock," Varys added. "One comet has already given him enormous magical power and a weapon that kills fully grown dragons. I shudder to think of what having two such weapons will do."

Podrick gasped. "The three-eyed crow!"

"Where?" Tristan turned to peer out the window behind Selwyn's desk. "We already have white-eyes eagles. Now we have to deal with three-eyed crows, too?"

"No, I meant King Aegon's dream," Podrick clarified. "He told us about traveling north of the Wall. He said a three-eyed crow led him to where _Dark Sister_ was hidden in a cave."

Tristan shivered visibly. "Don't remind me of that trip. It was months before I finally got the chill out of my bones."

"At least the chill left your bones." Jon Connington scowled and held his injured hand closer to his body.

Brienne looked at the hand encased in the thick leather glove. "You both went with his Grace? Was that where your hand was injured, Lord Jon?"

Jon nodded but didn't speak. He looked at Griff then shifted his gaze to the floor, covering his injured hand with his other hand, as though to hide it.

Podrick, his eyes sparkling, rushed in to fill the silence. "Your Grace, you said while you were in the cave you dreamt of a man with grey hair."

Griff nodded. "Yes, a man with long, grey hair and roots piercing his body. He was surrounded by the bones of the dead, but he still lived. What about him?"

"Do you think that man exists? The people of the North still worship the old Gods. If he knows enough magic to summon you, he might also know how to turn this star into a weapon." Podrick suggested.

Griff considered his words. "I don't know, Pod. Magic is a volatile and dangerous thing. Who knows what this rock is capable of doing in the wrong hands?"

"We must do something," Ned insisted. "It does us no good sitting in the dirt in Tarth."

"But what will we do with it if we can't use it?" Brienne stroked Gallan's head with a shaky hand. "If it's capable of attracting silver eagles, might it also attract the Night King?"

Griff's face paled. They were all quiet for a moment. The Night King was a creature of ice and magic. Now a weapon of ice and magic had been uncovered. Would the Night King, once it was able to raise Viserion and breach the magic of the Old Gods, come for this fallen star?

"We'll take the rock with us," Griff decided. "There's no point in risking the people of Tarth by leaving such a dangerous item here."

"We can better protect it," Ned agreed. "We know how to fight the dead and have Valyrian steel, dragonglass and dragons. Also, we're sailing to Maidenpool to meet up with Jon Snow. He was the Lord Commander of the Night's Watch. He brought the Wildlings south of the Wall. They might have people who still practice the old magic."

"If not, the dragons might be able to destroy the rock with their dragonfire," Selwyn suggested, shifting Allwyn, who was a heavy weight in his arms. "They're creatures of magic as well."

Griff looked down at Catren asleep in his lap. "Perhaps. If we decide we cannot use this weapon then it may be best to destroy it. If so, we may need the bigger dragons. These five might not have enough magical dragonfire."

Podrick frowned. "That makes me wonder. This rock is small enough to fit into a man's hands but was big enough to light up the sky. It's made of ice, causing the air around it to chill, but burned through the sky with a tail of fire. Is that a part of its magic?"

Griff's expression grew thoughtful. "I have a theory. I researched the Valyrians while I was at the Temple of Trios."

Tristan released an exaggerated groan. Everyone turned to look at him. He stretched out his large frame. Luckily the chair was made for big men like Tristan and Selwyn. It didn't groan when the new Lord of Parchment shifted his weight and folded his hands over his abdomen.

"Oye, you're gonna amaze us with more of your book learning. Who you trying to impress? Oh, never mind." Tristan grinned widely. "I know who you want to impress. Carry on."

Griff's face flushed and he glared darkly at Tristan. Brienne stiffened and stared at Tristan; her mouth pressed into a flat line. Podrick sunk down between Ardayn and Serdun, as if trying to make himself disappear. The other lords looked between Griff and Tristan with furrowed brows and deep frowns.

"Now isn't the time for your wit, _Lord_ Tristan," Brienne insisted. "We're discussing a terrible threat that may enslave all of Westeros, including the people you now protect." She turned to her father. "Didn't your instructions include a lesson on self-restraint?"

Griff snorted. "This is Tristan. One look at his stomach will show you he knows nothing about self-restraint."

"It's muscle!" Tristan insisted.

"I don't care," Brienne snapped. "We're engaged in war with an enemy that doesn't tire and can raise an inexhaustible army. Serdun nearly _died_ fighting those creatures. I won't listen to you make japes of this matter."

Anxiety made her breathing harsh and audible. Serdun, whom the Gods had entrusted into her care, had fallen from the sky protecting her. All of King's Landing might have fallen if the young dragons hadn't been able to contact Drogon and Rhaegal with their magical connection. Now, the weapon she'd hoped would help them turned out to be little more than a useless rock. She had no patience for their antics.

She knew from experience that the knowledge she learned one day might not become useful until much later. The saltwater priest had given her a vital clue the first day in Braavos but she hadn't understood its significance until months later. They needed all the information they could gather. Griff and Tristan sniped at each other out of habit but she needed them focused on their common goal. She would _not_ lose her dragons to their juvenile behavior.

Tristan's smile faded and he sat up straight. He mumbled something that might have been 'sorry' but she wasn't sure. She looked at Griff seated beside Gallan's lax form. The annoyance faded from his face and his expression calmed. The lords smoothed out their features and Podrick sat up straight again. Everyone looked to Griff to continue.

"One of the books in the temple was a diary from a Valyrian dragonrider. He said they often experienced health issues when their dragons flew very high," Griff explained. "The higher the dragons flew, the thinner and colder the air became. The dragons were protected by their magic, fire and scales. The riders would return with blackened extremities and skin that cracked and bled."

"That also occurs in the North," Podrick noted. "I saw it when we delivered Lady Sansa to Jon Snow at Castle Black. People had lost fingers, toes, noses and ears to the extreme cold."

"Correct," Griff nodded. "It was even worse for the dragonriders. The diary described riders who suffered such intense cold their abdomens blackened and cracked, spilling out their entrails, or their eyes and ears punctured, leaking blood and brains out of their heads. They were painful deaths."

Brienne looked around. While the description was gruesome, everyone listened intently. They had all seen death and violence. After the horror and cruelty she'd witnessed in the Riverlands, men who died from their own stupidity weren't a concern to her.

"Does this have bearing on Podrick's question?" she asked.

Griff nodded. "That was when they started to wear heavily padded Valyrian steel armor. It could withstand the cold air and dragonfire. The armor solved one problem but created another. Once they could endure the cold, the dragonriders made competitions of taking their dragons higher and higher. The writer described one rider who pushed his dragon so high that the saddle leather froze and snapped. The rider fell to the ground. It was noted that his armor glowed fire-red and had melted into the dragonrider's body."

"Melted?" Podrick repeated. "It takes extreme heat to melt steel and even more than that to melt Valyrian steel. Did a dragon attack the rider as he fell?"

Griff shook his head. "Not according to the diary's writer. The slaves whispered it was the Gods' wrath against the dragonrider for flying too close to them. That terrified the illiterate slaves. The Valyrians, however, understood science and math. The writer believed it was caused by friction."

"Friction?" Podrick repeated doubtfully. "The falling dragonrider experienced friction…by rubbing against the air?"

"Breathing rapidly makes my chest burn. I've felt that after running or training. Is that my body feeling friction against the air?" Brienne asked thoughtfully.

"Friction causes other things to burn, too," Ned noted. "Rubbing two dry sticks together can create fire. A windstorm can flay the skin off a man's bones and make every breath feel like the very air is on fire."

Jon nodded. "We also know that objects pick up speed as they fall, just as a pebble goes faster and faster as it rolls down a hill. You're saying that even ice will burn if it rubs against the air while it travels a far distance at a high speed."

Varys's eyes widened. "The red comet was seen over both Westeros and Essos. It had to travel so fast it crossed the entire known world in a single day."

Podrick blinked rapidly. "I can't even imagine such a speed."

Griff frowned thoughtfully. "Not only that, but it was clearly visible. I believe the star must have been hundreds of times bigger than it is now. The fire surrounding the ice melted it as it passed across the world."

"It was still burning when it crashed in the back courtyard," Selwyn concluded. "The heat was more intense than anything I'd felt before. We thought it was a lightning strike and focused on putting out the flames, not on investigating a possible fallen star."

"Does that mean that fire can destroy the rock?" Brienne asked. "Can we burn it if we can't use it?"

"I don't think it will be that simple," Ned warned her. "Magic must be a part of the construction. _Dawn_ is able to withstand dragonfire. Ardayn burned Gregor Clegane to ashes but _Dawn_ was unmarked."

"Even _Ice_ withstood dragonfire," Brienne recalled. "All five dragons fired on it. The sword itself caught fire but wasn't damaged."

"_Ice_ caught fire?" Selwyn clarified. "Are you saying the ancient sword of House Stark caught on fire or only survived fire?"

Brienne and Podrick exchanged tense glances. Selwyn had been with them in the _Chamber of the Painted Table _on Dragonstone when they'd discussed the many prophecies of warriors and burning swords. Podrick cleared his throat nervously then ducked his head. Brienne drew a deep breath and faced her father.

She stroked Gallan's head in her lap. "Tywin Lannister took _Ice_ after Ned Stark was beheaded. He had it made into two smaller swords. The sword I carried was part of the Stark's greatsword. It was given to me by Ser Jaime to defend Sansa and Arya Stark. During the battle with Ser Gregor, both swords were fused together, reforged by dragonfire. Then, when Ser Jaime used the reforged sword to give his sister a merciful death, it caught on fire."

"It also turned red," Podrick added. "The Lannister rubies that were used to decorate the swords melted into the swirls in the blade."

"You created the Red Sword of Heroes?" Selwyn demanded, looking dazed again.

"We don't know," Brienne admitted. "It hasn't burned since. I carried it into battle against the Army of the Dead. It didn't burn then, even when the dragons were fighting with me."

Selwyn looked at the sword hanging from Brienne's belt, the elaborate hilt with its gold flame licks and enormous center ruby clearly visible. Brienne covered the flame design on the pommel with a protective hand. Her father's eyes widened and his gaze shifted from her to Griff, then finally to Jon Connington. Selwyn stared at the Lord Paramount for a long moment, the two sharing a private conversation. The other lords looked at them, then at each other, but didn't speak. Selwyn's eyes narrowed as he turned back to stare at Griff.

"Which sword do you carry now, Brienne?" Selwyn spoke to his daughter but his gaze remained on Griff.

Brienne stiffened. She knew from his tone that her father already knew. Many would have been eager to tell Selwyn the story. How had he reacted upon learning the rightful King of the Seven Kingdoms had gifted his daughter with his family's priceless Valyrian steel sword? The weapon that was tangible proof of Griff's claim to kingship and his Targaryen blood.

"_Dark Sister_," she admitted quietly.

"The sword of Queen Visenya, passed down through the Targaryen family until it disappeared with Bryden Rivers." Selwyn's gaze still bore into Griff. "Returned to the Targaryen heir after he had dreams that led him north of the Wall."

Brienne had seen grown men reduced to blubbering fools under her father's severe glare. Griff didn't falter under her father's steady regard. Aegon Martell Targaryen remained calm and composed. Normally, Selwyn held the upper hand in encounters with the people he questioned. The Lord of Tarth was a great man, both in size and reputation. Griff, however, was the Prince of Dorne and the rightful King of Westeros. He bowed to no one, including his sworn sword's father.

"Yes," Griff agreed. His voice was equally calm and even. "It's only fitting that the first female knight and Kingsguard should carry the sword of the queen who created the guard. Brienne led the defense of King's Landing. Lord Selwyn, you and I both know your daughter's name will echo through history. I only gave her an honor she'd already earned."

"She appears to have given you something, as well." Selwyn's tone was distinctly chilly. "Catren is quite comfortable in your lap. I was told dragons only allow those who share a bond with their mother to hold them."

Griff raised his eyebrows and glanced down at Catren in his lap. Brienne spoke up hurriedly to respond before he did.

"Bond or _blood_, Father," she corrected. "Podrick is bonded to the dragons through his bond to me. Daenerys is Drogon's mother and sister to King Aegon's father, so her blood flows in these five. You, of course, share both blood and bond with me."

Selwyn didn't look away from Griff. "The dragons allow you to hold them because you share blood. Their attachment to you goes no deeper?"

Brienne tried to take a deep breath but found she couldn't. It felt like there wasn't enough air in the room. She looked around and saw everyone else was very still, as if fearing the slightest movement would shatter the brittle tension. Fortunately, the dragons were still asleep, unaware of the strange undercurrent between Griff and Selwyn.

Griff held her father's gaze for a long moment then deliberately relaxed his shoulders. "I'm their father. My attachment to them is unbreakable. I share both blood and bond."

A chill raced up and down Brienne's spine. Why would Griff say such a thing to her father? How could he allow himself to be distracted like this? She had pledged her life and her sword to her king, shared her dragons with him and believed in the world he was building. That world wouldn't survive unless they defeated the Army of the Dead. They couldn't allow their focus to waver.

"Father, now is not the time to discuss this matter," she insisted gently. "I promise to return to Tarth once we've defeated the Night King. Nothing is more important than saving Westeros and possibly the entire world from the Army of the Dead. It's my _duty_ to defend our people."

For a long moment, Selwyn held Griff's gaze. Around them, the lords were utterly silent, careful not to look at Brienne, Selwyn or Griff. The tension was so thick it hurt to breathe. Then Allwyn shifted in Selwyn's lap. The little dragon snuggled deeper, burrowing its head into Selwyn's abdomen, content in his arms. Selwyn's stiff spine relaxed as he looked down at the dragon, her magical gift from the Gods. He drew a deep breath and sighed.

Selwyn's gaze was considerably warmer when he looked up at Brienne. "I wish yours was an easier path, daughter. I would have been satisfied if you had just married and produced an heir for Tarth."

"That may still be part of her path, Selwyn," Jon suggested gently, "but it won't be her entire journey. The Gods have a different plan for Brienne."

"I know you worry for your daughter, Lord Selwyn." Griff leaned forward, careful of Catren in his lap, and looked directly into Selwyn's eyes. "Most people live lives of drudgery and faith. Drudgery because each day is a repeat of the last, simple lives of hard work and meager livings. I know. I lived with fisherfolk, made my own meals, cleaned my own clothes, worked with my hands, and understood their lives."

Griff stopped speaking when Selwyn shifted his gaze to Jon. The new Lord Paramount nodded gravely, verifying Griff's claims. Selwyn, still silent, turned back to Griff.

"Most people live in desperate faith, clinging to the belief that their lives have purpose," Griff continued. "They want to believe they have value in the Gods' grand design. Brienne has been given an extraordinary gift, one greater than fortunate birth, knighthood, and even the dragons. She lives her life with absolute certainty that she _matters_. She doesn't need faith in the Gods because the Gods have faith in _her_."

There was absolute silence after Griff's words. Even Tristan was quiet as they all turned to look at Brienne. She blushed deeply red and ducked her head. She remembered her own words when Jaime had thanked her for having faith.

_She shook her head. "No, Ser Jaime, I don't have faith."_

_She heard the crowd around her gasp. Even Griff, who had been watching silently, stiffened. She understood their confusion. Her words had stunned them, believers and non-believers alike. She was the Gods' warrior, the instrument of their will. How could she, of all people, not have faith?_

"_Faith is the power to believe without proof to support that belief," she explained. She looked up to Gallan and Ardayn, hovering near her shoulders. "I don't need faith because I have proof. I am the Gods' warrior and I will do whatever is necessary to carry out their will."_

Varys broke the silence. "The Gods have a plan, Lord Selwyn. They've known about the threat of the Night King for longer than any of us have been alive. They have a strategy to defeat the Army of the Dead. We may not understand their plan but we must follow it." Sorrow darkened his eyes. "Some of us have made terrible mistakes or sacrifices along the way but we must accept that we are following the Gods' will."

Selwyn sighed heavily. "And my Brienne is an instrument of their will."

Allwyn shifted in his arms, rearranging itself into a more comfortable position in Selwyn's lap. He smiled sadly as he stroked the blue-grey dragon.

"Please don't worry, Father," Brienne urged. "I have the dragons with me. Even the big dragons came to protect me."

"But dragons can be killed," Selwyn reminded her. "There's a dead dragon that might rise north of the Wall. Was that also part of the Gods' plans?"

Jon reached out and put his uninjured hand on Selwyn's shoulder, a gesture of comfort. Even so, he held his body awkwardly, aware of Allwyn sleeping in Selwyn's lap. The movement caused the dual griffins sigil on his jacket to stand out prominently.

Jon dropped his hand. "The war has already begun, Selwyn. Rhaegar knew a terrible threat was coming and did everything in his power to prepare for it."

Griff snorted and his mouth twisted into a sneer. "Rhaegar was an entitled, selfish fool who only played at being a kind, benevolent prince. He was no more effective than Joffrey."

Jon frowned at Griff. "Aegon, I know you don't have a high opinion of your father. Your anger blinds you to the truth. You refuse to understand his sacrifices."

"What sacrifices?" Griff demanded. "Rhaegar didn't sacrifice. Westeros sacrificed so Rhaegar could have his way."

"Your father knew it was his duty to restore House Targaryen. He had to make it strong enough to fight the oncoming threat," Jon insisted.

Griff's face flushed. "If that was his intention, then he should have taken better care of the family he already had."

Jon's face also colored. "He _was_ taking care of his family, and of Westeros, too. He was a great and noble warrior."

"Seeing his mother's bruises and doing nothing about them wasn't taking care of his family." Griff's voice was cold but controlled. "The noble warrior heard his mother's screams and didn't take his father to task. The honorable man humiliated his lady wife before the whole kingdom. The great prince abandoned his children. He took House Stark's daughter, who'd been betrothed into House Baratheon, and left his mother, wife, and children at the mercy of his insane father. Rhaegar didn't take care of his family. He destroyed it."

"He left you, your mother and sister safe at Dragonstone. He didn't know King Aerys would have you brought to the Red Keep," Jon insisted.

"Safe?" Griff repeated. "He knew his father was mad, was burning loyal subjects with wildfire, was abusing his mother nightly and that the entire kingdom was on the brink of revolt. He could have easily taken my grandmother to Dragonstone, away from Aerys and stayed with his family. That would have been taking care of them. The great, noble warrior could have spent his time building consensus among the lords to overthrow the Mad King. That would have made House Targaryen stronger and pulled Westeros back from the cusp of war."

Griff's harsh tone and rising voice woke the dragons. None of them liked hearing his anger or sensing his fury. Ardayn and Serdun, normally independent, pressed into Podrick. He was silent, his wide eyes dominating his face as he held both dragons close, seeming to need comfort as much as they did. Gallan, who'd been asleep with its head in Brienne's lap, rose to press its entire body against her side. She lifted her arm to allow it to burrow closer. Allwyn, the most sensitive, wrapped its tail around Selwyn and buried its face in his neck. Catren, still in Griff's lap, curled into itself. The lords around them looked from Jon to Griff and back again. They all remained silent as they tried not to attract attention to themselves.

Jon rubbed his forehead with his uninjured hand. "You look back at events that have already occurred. How could Rhaegar have known how Aerys would react? Rhaegar was focused on saving all of Westeros. He knew he had to father the three heads of the dragon."

"And how did that turn out?" Griff snarled. "My mother gave her life to delay the Mountain and give my sister and me a chance to escape him. Even then, Rhaenys was brutally murdered. My grandmother died giving birth to Daenerys. Robert killed Rhaegar at the Trident. Perhaps if Rhaegar had devoted more attention to preserving his family and less to his fancy black armor, he'd still be alive. The black dragon didn't rise in a blaze of fire and blood. He died with a war hammer in his chest."

Jon's face nearly crumpled with his grief. The Lord Paramount took a deep breath and steadied himself. "Rhaegar's death was a tragedy. The kingdom mourned for their lost prince."

"No. Only you mourned for Rhaegar," Griff insisted. "The smallfolk didn't. They were too busy trying to survive being ravaged by all sides. The Starks mourned the death of their lord, his heir and their daughter. The Martells mourned my mother, my sister and Prince Lewyn. The kingdom mourned everyone who died in the war Rhaegar didn't prevent."

Jon sighed, "Rhaegar's focus was narrow but his goal was still true. He needed to father the three heads of the dragon to save House Targaryen and Westeros."

"Rhaegar failed at that, too." Griff's voice was icy. "My sister was murdered. I was smuggled out of the Red Keep in a potatoes sack. Ser Williem Derry fled to Essos with Viserys and the newly-born Daenerys. Ned Stark rode to Dorne to collect his sister's bones and his bastard son. Viserys was killed by Daenerys's Dotharaki husband. Rhaegar didn't save us. Brienne has done more to save House Targaryen than Rhaegar ever did."

"Rhaegar did the best he could with the resources he had," Jon insisted.

"Why do you insist on always seeing the good in Rhaegar?" Griff demanded. "His actions speak for themselves."

Jon sat up straight. "Rhaegar was a kind and gentle man who did everything for the good of the realm. He wasn't perfect but he was always thinking of the future. He was focused on preparing for what was to come while everyone around him focused on taking power."

"A good ruler should be able to protect his people _while_ preparing for the future. A leader who can only do one or the other will always fail." Griff's eyes narrowed at his guardian. "You're the Lord Paramount of the Stormlands. How can you, of all people, fail to understand such a simple fact?"

Jon drew in his breath with an audible gasp. "Are you doubting my loyalty to you or my ability to lead the Stormlands in your name?"

"What?" Griff also drew a deep breath. "Neither. I don't doubt you or your leadership. You're my oldest friend and my most faithful advisor. I trust you completely. Never think otherwise, Lord Jon."

Jon sighed heavily, suddenly looking older and weary. "This is a familiar argument, Aegon. We cannot change each other's opinions. There's no need to inflict it on everyone else."

Griff suddenly stiffened. He looked around and saw them all silently watching their exchange. Catren, curled in Griff's lap, cried out softly. He looked down at the miserable little dragon and his mouth dropped open.

"Catren, I didn't mean to upset you." Griff scooped up the dragon and hugged it to his chest. He looked around at the other dragons taking comfort from Brienne, Selwyn and Podrick and at the silent, stiff lords. "All of you, forgive my behavior. As Lord Jon says, it's an old argument. I shouldn't have brought it up."

Podrick looked down while the lords all looked at each other. No matter what their thoughts or opinions, they kept them to themselves. Griff was the Prince of Dorne and the rightful King of the Seven Kingdoms. His word was absolute. The men all nodded, their expressions carefully neutral. Even so, the tension in the room eased. Varys broke the silence.

"Lord Jon, I understand that several important keeps in the Stormlands were abandoned after the War of the Five Kings." As was his habit, the Spider tucked his hands into his sleeves. "We met Lady Elinor Massey in King's Landing. What are your plans for guarding those people?"

The Lord Paramount accepted the change in conversation. He smiled and began speaking. The men fell into conversation but Brienne continued to focus on Griff. He was quiet as he listened to Jon. Griff watched his guardian with visible concern as he stroked Catren's back. She was doing the same, stroking Gallan to calm herself. It had visibly shocked Griff when Jon questioned his confidence in him. Normally, Griff was an expert at concealing his thoughts and reactions. The possibility of losing Jon Connington's support had distressed Griff in a way she'd never seen before.

As he'd done with Podrick in the dragons' cave, Griff was quick to reassure those who were important to him. A ruler wasn't required to explain his actions, let alone apologize for them. Brienne released Gallan as she studied Griff's still flushed face. Griff had inherited the Martell hot blood and quick temper. Even so, he understood and accepted limitations. Jon Connington was the man who had raised him, taught him to be a good, fair person and an admirable ruler.

It was apparent that Jon couldn't see fault in Rhaegar. Even as he raised the son, Jon had kept his idealized view of the father. Jon believed as Rhaegar had believed. Like King Jaeherys before him, Rhaegar had been convinced his greatest duty was to create the three heads of the dragon. That had been his focus, even knowing his father's actions were bringing the kingdom closer and closer to war. When Elia Martell could not birth a third child, he'd turned to Lyanna Stark. He'd been so determined to have a second daughter that he'd risked war with House Stark and House Baratheon.

Lyanna hadn't been a simple daughter of a peasant family, easily used and discarded. She was the only daughter of the Lord Paramount of the North. Had Rhaegar really been stupid enough to select her because of a badly drawn carving on Dragonstone? Or had he already chosen Lyanna and the carving had only strengthened his desire to take her?

Jon Connington shifted in his seat as he spoke but Brienne didn't hear his words. She stared at the dual griffins sigil on his jacket and recalled her shock at first seeing it. It was one of the three magical animals in her last dragon dream. The black dragon had changed its coloring to echo the dragons, the direwolf that shed color until it was Ardayn's silver-grey and the griffin was so blood-soaked, it was red. Both the direwolf and the griffin had thrown off the black layers of dragonglass that had hidden them. And suddenly she _knew_.

_Rhaegar was the black dragon in her dream_. He'd worn a black armor encrusted with rubies for his battle against Robert at the Trident. Robert's killing blow had struck Rhaegar so hard the rubies had fallen off his armor. The site was now called the Ruby Ford because of the rubies that had washed up along the shores.

Rhaegar was the great dragon that overshadowed all the other dragons. His influence was now waning. The other dragons would have to fight the war Rhaegar hadn't lived to see. The dragons wouldn't fight alone. They had the direwolf and the griffin with them. No, that wasn't right. Jon Connington was injured. He couldn't hold a sword so he couldn't fight. If Jon couldn't fight then what would be his contribution to winning the Great War? That was obvious. He was the king's most trusted advisor. He'd protected and would continue to guide Griff.

_Griff_.

Young Griff, hidden as the son of Old Griff. Brienne stared at House Connington's sigil again. Not one griffin but two. Jon Connington had always been a griffin but, for most of his life, Aegon has been hidden as one, too. The griffin in her dreams had been slowly formed, from an eagle overpowering a lion until they'd merged into a single, fierce creature. Could the griffin in her dream be Griff? The griffin has been hidden under dragonglass, the remnants of a dragon's legacy of fire and blood. Rhaegar's death had unleashed a wave of bloodshed over Westeros. His son had been forced into hiding to protect his life.

Brienne recalled the third magical animal in her dream. The direwolf had also been buried under dragonglass. It had shaken the black material off its fur. There had been so much residue on the direwolf that it had shed the black with every step, until it was the same silver-grey as Ardayn's coloring.

Or the sigil of House Stark.

"_The sigil for House Stark is a silver-grey direwolf," she noted. "The same color as Ardayn's scales. The fur on the direwolf sigil can also be interpreted as scales. All the dragon carvings in the castle on Dragonstone use the same scale pattern. What distinguishes a dragon's head from a direwolf's head?"_

_Podrick stilled and took a deep breath. "Perception. We see what we want to see."_

An icy chill passed through her body, causing the fine hairs on her arms to stand to attention. She and Podrick had exchanged those words only this morning, as they sailed down the Straits of Tarth. They hadn't been significant then but now the memory caused a jolt. She only felt the odd thrill when the Gods were telling her she'd missed an important clue. She looked over at Podrick, who was sitting silently between Ardayn and Serdun. His brow was furrowed with concentration as he listened to the Lord Paramount. Normally, Podrick would help her reason out the important clues she'd missed. Now she would have to try to solve it on her own.

Their conversation had been about the disputed Dragonstone carving. Could Rhaegar have been right? Was it really a direwolf and not a badly carved dragon? Did Lyanna Stark leave with Rhaegar willingly, agreeing to birth the third head of the dragon? Could Robert's Rebellion have been built on a lie? Would it matter if Lyanna wasn't kidnapped? She'd died without birthing the daughter Rhaegar had wanted so much.

_Jon sighed, "Rhaegar's focus was narrow but his goal was still true. He needed to father the three heads of the dragon to save House Targaryen and Westeros."_

"_Rhaegar failed at that, too," Griff's voice was icy. "My sister was murdered. I was smuggled out of the Red Keep in a potatoes sack. Ser Williem Derry fled to Essos with Viserys and the newly-born Daenerys. Ned Stark rode to Dorne to collect his sister's bones and his bastard son. Viserys was killed by Daenerys's Dotharaki husband. Rhaegar didn't save us. Brienne has done more to save House Targaryen than Rhaegar ever did."_

Jon and Griff had exchanged those words only moments ago. They didn't believe Rhaegar had another daughter. She would have been the third head of the dragon Rhaegar was so sure would restore House Targaryen and rebirth dragons. Without Rhaenys, Aegon and Daenerys weren't enough to create the three heads of the dragon.

"_Brienne has done more to save House Targaryen than Rhaegar ever did."_

What had she done that had helped House Targaryen? She'd been in the right place at the right time to give her meager dragon's blood to mother Drogon's offspring. No, that wasn't all she'd done. According to Tyrion, Varys and Jorah, she'd stabilized Daenerys, who'd been the only acknowledged human Targaryen at that time.

_Tyrion turned back to Brienne. "Have you heard the expression 'every time a Targaryen is born, the Gods toss a coin and the world holds its breath' Lady Ser Brienne?"_

_Brienne nodded. "Yes, of course. But I've seen no madness in Daenerys."_

"_Yet." Tyrion stressed the word. "I've seen what she's capable of doing. I was there for the second siege of Meereen. Then I watched as she and her bloodriders slaughtered the Lannister army on the Gold Road. She is a Targaryen. They take what they want with fire and blood."_

"_But I've seen no madness in her," Brienne repeated. "I've seen her in private, where she's free to be herself, away from her duties. She has great ambitions, yes, but no madness."_

"_Because of you," Varys said softly._

_Brienne frowned at the former Master of Whispers. "What? Me? What have I done?"_

"_You share her blood," Tyrion answered. "She came to Westeros as the last of her bloodline, a foreigner to the land she was born in and an invader to the castles her ancestors built. You've changed her into the leader of the new Targaryen dynasty, a returning champion and the queen the people need to defend their homes. More importantly, you've shown her there is someone she can trust to manage and even expand upon what she's already created: her armies, her kingdom and even her dragons. You are what pushed her away from the isolation, the grief and the madness."_

_Brienne could only stare at Tyrion, speechless. Then she recalled her conversation with Jorah in the Throne Room while releasing the Valyrian steel swords from the Iron Throne._

"_There's a fine line between grief and madness," Jorah explained, his gravelly voice pitched low. "She's much closer to that line than many others. But you have steadied her, pulled her further away from that line then she's been in all the time I've known her." _

_Brienne lowered her eyes, unable to meet the devoted knight's gaze. Guilt tightened her throat. "Your queen is a good woman." _

"_With many enemies and traitors plotting to bring her down." Jorah leaned closer to meet her gaze. "She needs those who love her to stand by her side, guard her back and light her way. You, Lady Brienne, have illuminated her path. I thank you for it." _

Illuminated her path.

"_To Lady Ser Brienne of Tarth." Jon's deep voice rose to be heard over the ovation. "Knight of the Seven Kingdoms and _Lightbringer_."_

Jon Snow had been the first to call her _Lightbringer_, the sword of heroes, the instrument of the Gods. He'd wrongly believed he was her king, because she hadn't been able to reveal her loyalty to her rightful king.

"_Thank you, Brienne." His voice was gruff and a bit muffled, as if he had trouble speaking. "I'll do my best to justify your faith, and the Gods' faith, in me." _

The Gods' faith wasn't in Jon. It was in Griff, the prince who was promised. Jon wasn't her king but he was a good leader and a good man. The White Wolf had brought together warring tribes and opposing Houses to unite the North. She remembered her thoughts when the dragons had first come to Dragonstone, bringing peace to the grieving Dragon Queen and relief to the worried Wolf King.

_Daenerys looked over the assembled crowd. "My Lords and Ladies, King Jon." Somehow, she still looked regal even with Gallan overfilling her arms and Jorah hovering with his hands ready to support her. "Let's go inside and strategize for this parlay. We have a kingdom to save."_

_She looked strong and sure, despite the heavy sadness darkening her eyes. The grieving mother had taken a much-needed respite while the focused Queen remerged. Brienne looked at Jon and saw the relief in his expression. They needed Daenerys and her dragons now more than ever. The Night King's power and magic was greater than they'd anticipated, the five young dragons were exposed and Cersei still loomed as a threat. _

_The Dragon Queen was powerful, well-armed and willing to fight for the living. Brienne knew the war against the Night King didn't diminish Daenerys's driving desire to sit upon the Iron Throne. She would put aside her goals to save the realm and extract vengeance for her lost child. She would not forget her ambitions. The future survival of Westeros lay in the hands of a woman obsessed with destiny, immersed in grief, hungry for revenge and thirsting for conquest. How would they keep her on the proper path? _

_The weight of that responsibility caused a shudder to pass through Brienne. Catren shifted but still maintained a bruising hold. Brienne stroked Catren as she waited for her turn to walk inside. She was a knight, used to following orders. If only Griff were here. He'd know what to do. He knew how to bring people together, guide them towards a desired goal and find common ground among warring factions. Griff has been raised to rule._

_Jon turned to her, as if sensing her distress. He gave her a small smile and nod around the burden of Ardayn in his arms. Some of the heaviness lifted from Brienne's shoulders. Jon had shown the same aptitude for leadership. He had united the North and was now building an alliance with Daenerys. He would also parlay with Cersei. Griff wasn't here but she and Jon were. Maybe they would be enough to guide the queens towards the common goal._

_At least until the son of Rhaegar Targaryen came to take his rightful place as the true ruler of the Seven Kingdoms._

The son of Rhaegar Targaryen. The rightful King of the Seven Kingdoms. The living legacy of the Dragon Kings, able to withstand fire and command dragons. Dragons that Daenerys had brought back more than a century after the last dragons died. Griff had explained his theory of their rebirth after the pirate fight.

"_I've been told Rhaegar believed a prophecy that said the dragon must have three heads. There were no living dragons at the time, so he took it to mean he should have three children, hopefully all with dragon's blood. Then he died at the Trident and my sister died at the sacking of King's Landing. I hadn't thought much about the prophecy until Daenerys birthed her dragons. We now have three people with the blood of the dragon thus she was able to bring three dragons into the world."_

Daenerys had birthed dragons. If Griff's theory was true, then the three-headed dragon must have been born. Three people with the blood of Aerys and Rhaella were alive four years ago, when the red comet had streaked across Essos and Westeros. That person couldn't be her. She, Brienne, wasn't born of Rhaella's line. It couldn't be Viserys, either. He'd been killed by Daenerys's husband months before the dragons' birth. Plus, Viserys was a male. The third head of the dragon had to be female, didn't it?

Did it?

"_I was told dragons only allow those who share a bond with their mother to hold them."_

"_Bond or _blood_, Father," she corrected._

Brienne's heart began to beat faster. Jon Snow, the Bastard of Winterfell, was able to hold the dragons. The young dragons trusted him. They turned their backs to him, even when he was with her. Ardayn had jumped into Jon's arms that first day at Dragonstone. Catren had demanded his attention in King's Landing.

_Only Catren was left without human contact. The brown dragon squawked indignantly, alone on the table, and looked around. Catren stared at the King in the North, as if he were to blame for that lack. Jon obediently rose from his seat and slowly approached._

"_I'm sorry neither Podrick nor Lord Selwyn are here to hold you, Catren," he said. "But you're safe with us, little one. We'll all protect you."_

_Jon gently stroked down Catren's back, between the rows of emerging spikes. Catren shifted, pressing into Jon, elongating its neck to rest it on his shoulder. The dragon growled in the back of its throat, low and steady. Brienne blinked and stared at Jon. Before now, Griff had been the only person whose touch made Catren growl like that, a sound between a purr and a rumble, indicating the dragon was relaxed and content. Was the leader of the five bonding with the King in the North as it had with the future King of Seven Kingdoms?_

The young dragons liked other people, such as Tyrion and Tristan, and were friendly with them. Still, they didn't allow these men to hold them nor did they turn their backs on them. Not only were the young dragons comfortable with Jon, even Drogon had taken to him. The King in the North had barely known Daenerys at that time, so he had no _bond_ with Drogon. Did he have _blood_?

"_I have a theory," Ned said finally. "Perhaps my aunt didn't die from despair. Might she have died in childbirth? But she was an unmarried woman, from a noble house. She would never bear a bastard. No taint has ever touched House Dayne, even after my aunt's death. Could that be the reason why my parents spoke Ned Stark's name with admiration to their last days, why his name carries on in my family?"_

"_Did Ned Stark, instead of allowing a single drop of dishonor to taint House Dayne, take the burden, and the babe, upon himself?" Ned questioned. "Did he destroy his own honor to protect my family and my aunt's reputation? House Dayne enjoys unparalleled status, going back to the Age of Heroes, while Ned Stark's reputation was forever besmirched, his character stained, no matter how honorable his later actions."_

Brienne blinked and looked at Ned Dayne. The words were so clear, it was almost as if he'd spoken them out loud now. Ned was focused on what Lord Jon was saying, not paying attention to her. The words were a memory from the first day Ned had come to King's Landing. He'd been talking about his deceased Aunt Ashara, whom he'd thought might be Jon Snow's mother.

"_Did he destroy his own honor to protect my family and my aunt's reputation?"_

Brienne frowned to herself. Ned Stark had gone to Dorne to find his sister. Instead he'd found her body. He'd been a man of unshakeable honor, who'd felt compelled to return _Dawn_ to Starfall. He'd taken Arthur Dayne's sword back to his family but not his bones. Ned Stark had traveled across the burning hot Red Dunes with his sister's bones and his new bastard son.

Why would he take his son? As Robert's close friend, Ned could have safely left the babe in King's Landing. As the Lord of Winterfell and Lord Paramount of the North, he could have sent Jon Snow to Winterfell with trusted companions. It would have been an easier journey for a new baby than a trek across the burning sands of Dorne.

Unless he found the babe in Dorne.

Was Ned Dayne half-right? Had Ned Stark hidden an unmarried woman's bastard child? Instead of Ashara Dayne, had Ned shielded his sister, Lyanna? Had he, as Ned Dayne said, taken the burden and the babe upon himself? Could it be that Lyanna _did_ have a child with Rhaegar? Could that child have been a son instead of a daughter? Brienne, holding Gallan close to her side, recalled Jon Connington's exchange with Varys on the Tarth dock earlier that day;

"_Finally, after all these years of silence and secrets, you've fulfilled your promise to his mother." Jon's voice throbbed with emotion. "You kept her son safe to claim his heritage."_

"_You were the one who sacrificed your reputation and defied your family to honor his father's memory," Varys responded, his voice equally thick. "You raised Rhaegar's son to be a great leader and an honorable man."_

Those words could also apply to Ned Stark's care and love for Jon Snow. The most honorable man in Westeros had betrayed his marriage vows. It was a stain on his reputation he'd accepted, even though he could easily have discarded the bastard child. Acknowledging Jon, raising him with his legitimate children, had caused friction with his lady wife. Lady Catelyn had never forgotten the dishonor. Jon had always been set apart from his brothers and sisters, even though he'd been raised at Winterfell. Lady Catelyn has never allowed Jon to forget he was a Snow, never allowed him to be legitimized as a Stark.

Despite the obstacles before him, Jon has persevered and overcome. The boy ridiculed for being the Bastard of Winterfell was now the King in the North. The White Wolf, as he was known, had become heir to the Young Wolf.

"_The Bastard of Winterfell," Griff said thoughtfully, "who went from being a lesser son to Lord Commander of the Night's Watch then the King in the North. Quite a lofty rise from bastard to king."_

"_It's not so different than your own," Podrick suggested. "From a carefully hidden war survivor to secret Commander of the Golden Company to the King of Westeros. I think you and King Jon have a lot in common."_

Griff and Jon had lived parallel lives. Aegon Martell Targaryen had spent his life hidden as a griffin to protect him from Robert's wrath. Had Ned Stark done the same for his sister's child? Was Jon Snow the third head of the dragon? Could Jon have been hidden as a wolf, a direwolf buried under dragonglass just as Griff was the griffin hidden the same way? Was her dream telling her they would need the five swords, all the dragons and both of Rhaegar's hidden sons to defeat the Army of the Dead?

Brienne took slow deep breaths to steady her racing heartbeat. She was desperate to discuss her conclusions with Griff and Podrick. She had no proof of her claim but talking out her ideas had always been the first step to understanding and implementing them. Griff might be able to devise a way to prove or disprove her conclusion. She turned to him and was about to speak when she heard his voice in her head.

_Ned Stark rode to Dorne to collect his sister's bones and his bastard son._

Brienne froze. How had Griff known Ned Stark had collected Jon from Dorne? Jon insisted that Ned Stark had never revealed where he was born or who his mother was. Ned had been away at war for months. Robert had just claimed the throne when Ned decided to head south to find his sister. He'd expected to retrieve Lyanna and return her to her family. Ned hadn't known she wouldn't make it back to Winterfell alive.

_Ned Stark rode to Dorne to collect his sister's bones and his bastard son._

_His bastard son._ Not Ned Stark's bastard son but Rhaegar's. Had Griff meant that he knew Jon Snow was Rhaegar's son with Lyanna Stark? All this time, while she'd honored Griff's wishes, followed his commands and kept his counsel, had he'd failed to share important information with her?

She had left the dragons in his care and return to Westeros to fulfill her oath to Lady Catelyn. Griff knew her goal was to take the Stark sisters to Castle Black – to Jon Snow, his half-brother. Griff would have known Jon was as noble and honorable as Ned Stark. Griff would expect Jon to feel indebted to her for saving his sister. Had Griff, who thought through multiple possibilities and understood human nature, expected his sworn sword to garner House Stark's loyalty? He would have known having the Starks behind Brienne would strengthen him immeasurably against Daenerys.

"_Lord Varys, how did Edmure Tully pledge?"_

"_He pledged to the White Wolf, as you expected he would," Varys confirmed. "He accepts Robb Stark's bastard brother as his king."_

_As you expected he would_. Griff always thought ahead and made contingency plans. He's sent his men into the Riverlands to help restore House Tully. Even so, he'd expected they Tullys to pledge themselves to the White Wolf. The Riverlands would follow the same leader as the North, giving Griff two regions at the same time. Had Griff even anticipated Jon Snow would become King in the North?

Then, when Griff had revealed himself in King's Landing, had he _still_ kept that information from her? He'd known Jon was marching north with Daenerys and made no mention of their kinship. He'd even used Jon's name and possible connection to House Dayne to trick the Dornish lords into coming to King's Landing. Could Griff be that cunning and callous?

Of course, he could. Griff had been molded for kingship since the day Varys had smuggled him out of the Red Keep. Griff spoke multiple languages, understood human nature and studied past battles to understand strategy. He'd trained the young dragons and his men until they moved and reacted with perfect precision. He was already establishing his rule throughout Westeros and building up his power structure. Griff knew being King of the Seven Kingdoms was his duty. He would do whatever was necessary to achieve his goal.

Brienne understood why he didn't share _every_ detail with her. Even so, she was his sworn sword. She'd vowed to give her life for his and had almost done so during the battle against the dead. She worried constantly for the young dragons and the war they would face. They'd discussed the prophecy of the three heads of the dragon many times. Griff had had so many opportunities to tell her the truth. Why had he concealed it from her?

Could Griff really be that cunning and callous against _her_?

**Author's Note: **I'm sorry I've been MIA for so long. The end of quarantine coincided with the Independence Day weekend and an unexpected holiday. I hope this extra-long chapter makes up for the delay.

As usual, I'm working without a beta reader. Please let me know if I need to make any corrections. Is anyone interested in being my beta reader?

So, what do you think? Is Griff cunning and callous enough to use Brienne to achieve his goals? Is she just a means to an end for him? Hmmm…


	61. Trust Keeper

The Keeper

Chapter 61 – Trust Keeper

Brienne carefully shifted Gallan's head from her lap and stood up. Jon Connington, who'd been speaking, stopped to look at her. The other lords, the dragons and Podrick also turned to her.

"What's wrong, Brienne?" Griff frowned at her. "You look worried."

"Ned Stark rode to Dorne to collect his sister's bones and his bastard son," Brienne repeated. She looked directly into Griff's eyes. "How did you know Jon Snow was born in Dorne?"

Griff's indigo eyes darkened as he realized what he'd inadvertently revealed with his unguarded remarks. His expression became carefully blank, as it did when he was hiding his thoughts and reactions. Seeing him putting up the barriers, distancing himself from her as though she was someone he distrusted, caused pain to bloom in Brienne's chest. She gasped, feeling suddenly breathless. She'd taken physical blows that hadn't hurt this much. The dragons, sensitive to her emotions, all looked up. Podrick's expression tightened, too. Brienne didn't allow their worry to distract her from Griff.

"How could you?" she demanded in an airless whisper.

Selwyn also rose with Allwyn still in his arms. "Brienne, what's the matter?"

She ignored her father to stay focused on her cunning and calculating king. "How could you lie to me? I trusted you. I swore myself to you. I thought you were an honorable man. How can you be so false?"

"Brienne, calm yourself." Griff's voice was as bland as his expression, hiding his emotions.

The tension rose in the room. The men looked from Brienne to Griff then back again. Podrick, seated with Serdun and Ardayn, looked distressed, his eyes wide. Ned and Varys exchanged glances but said nothing. Tristan scowled, his gaze also on Griff.

Jon Connington looked at the dragons and pressed deeper into his seat, frowning with concern. His brow creased and his mouth tensed as he turned to stare at Griff. The Lord Paramount seemed to comprehend what Griff had said to upset Brienne.

"Brienne, you're talking treason against your king," Selwyn hissed. "Why are you saying this?"

"I'm saying it because it's true." Her voice was stronger now, her indignation causing adrenaline to pump through her veins. She didn't look away from Griff. "How dare you hide the truth and lie to me?"

Selwyn bent to release Allwyn to Podrick. The blue-grey dragon, sensing the increasing tension, went willingly to her squire. It curled into his lap while Ardayn and Serdun pressing against him. Gallan, still on the settee beside Griff and Catren, slid closer to Griff while watching Brienne with shiny reptilian eyes.

"Brienne, control yourself." Selwyn put his hand on her shoulder. "I raised you to have more sense than this. Apologize to his Grace and we'll discuss this in a calm, rational manner."

If he'd been any other man, including Griff, she would have thrown off his hand. Since he was her father, Brienne took Selwyn's hand in hers and squeezed it briefly before releasing it. She still didn't look at her father. Her entire focus was on Griff, whose expression was no longer blank. Instead, his indigo eyes glittered, a sure sign that he was making calculations in his head, trying to decide how best to respond. She may not be the political player he was, but she was a warrior. As one, she knew to strike while her opponent was off balance and unprepared for the next blow.

"I owe him no apologies," she insisted. "I have always told him the truth, about everything. He should show me the same respect."

The lords began to stir. Varys leaned back, a deep frown on his face. Ned, in contrast, leaned forward, as though listening with great care. Jon Connington watched the dragons with concern. Tristan sat up in his chair, his eyes glittering as he looked between Brienne and Griff. Selwyn stayed at his daughter's side, shifting closer, as if to protect her.

"Brienne, calm yourself," Selwyn ordered. "You're insulting the rightful king. _Golden Company_ men patrol the halls and guard the courtyard. They will not take well to such disrespect."

"We're not fools," Tristan growled. "If Griff can't take criticism from those who risk their lives for him, then he's not much of a king, is he?"

Selwyn startled visibly. He looked from Tristan's scowl to Jon's grim expression. Varys relaxed and Podrick released his breath with an audible sigh. Even Ned sat up straighter in his chair. The dragons, unable to understand the odd tension in the room, continued to sniff at the air and press into Griff and Podrick.

"His Grace wasn't raised in the rarified atmosphere of court, Lord Selwyn," Varys added. "King Aegon knows kingship is his duty, that a king must put his people first, and live and rule for them."

Despite the concern of dragons so close to him, Jon Connington nodded in agreement. Selwyn glanced at him but remained at his daughter's side. Ned added his own assurances to the others.

"Lord Selwyn, rest easy," he reassured. "Prince Aegon is a fair man. He won't condemn anyone without just cause. Lady Ser Brienne, of all people, has nothing to fear from him."

Brienne heard Tristan, Varys, and Ned's assurances, but didn't need the words as her father did. Selwyn had come into lordship during the last years of Aerys's reign. He'd protected his people through Aerys's madness, Robert's indifference, Joffrey's cruelty, Tommen's weakness, and Cersei's incompetence. None of those rulers would tolerate dissent from their subjects, no matter how favored that subject might be.

Brienne was the mother of Griff's dragons but Westerosi monarchs didn't have a good history of protecting even their own families. Aerys and Robert had openly betrayed and humiliated their queens. Joffery had ordered his Kingsgaurds to publicly beat Sansa. Tommen's weakness had led to Margaery and Ser Loras's imprisonment by the Faith Militants. Cersei had murdered her uncle and led to her last child's death. Her father had seen the behavior of past Protectors of the Seven Kingdoms.

Brienne kept focus on her king's calm, composed expression. She knew Griff wouldn't hurt her in the physical sense. He'd jumped onto a burning pirate ship, broken down the Throne Room door, thrown himself off the capitol's wall and fought off Wights to protect her. No, he wouldn't harm her physically. But that wasn't the pain she feared.

Griff also continued to hold Brienne's gaze. Even so, he was poised enough to address her father. "They speak the truth, Lord Selwyn. I trust every person in this room. I've put my life, and the dragons' lives, in their hands. They all speak freely, including Brienne."

Selwyn's shoulders slumped. His eyes shut briefly as he breathed in deeply. Around them, the other lords also relaxed. The sharp tension eased even while Brienne and Griff continued their silent standoff. Griff broke the stalemate by rising and placing Catren on the settee beside Gallan. Both dragons looked around, sniffing to try to identify the source of the strain. Selwyn moved so he was in front of the two, as if trying to shield the young dragons from their parents' disagreement.

"Explain why you're upset, Brienne," Griff asked.

"You know the truth of Jon Snow, don't you? You knew and you concealed it from me," Brienne accused.

"I haven't concealed anything from you," Griff denied. "However, there are topics I only discus when the time is right. Tell me what crucial information I neglected to share with you."

"Neglected to share?" Brienne repeated incredulously. "You knew I was returning to Westeros to find the Stark daughters and take them to Castle Black, to _Jon Snow_."

"There was no guarantee you would find the girls. If you did, then Jon Snow was the only living relation the Stark sisters had. There was no one else to shelter them. Would knowing Jon Snow's past have helped you find or protect the Stark sisters?" Griff asked.

Brienne drew a breath but still refused to release her indignation. "What about when you came to King's Landing? Jon Snow was the King in the North. Didn't you think his past mattered then?"

Griff shrugged. "No, I didn't. He was named king because of his Stark blood. Then, once he was elevated, I was less concerned about his birth than I was about his vow to you."

"You believe his vow of House stark's loyalty to me gives you power over him." Brienne stilled. "Did you expect Jon Snow to recover Winterfell for House Stark? In all your endless plans and calculations, did you calculate that his actions would aid your efforts by becoming the King in the North?"

"I did," Griff admitted. "There weren't a lot of options for Snow. If you were able to reunite him with the Stark girls, he'd have to leave Castle Black. He couldn't keep them at a Night's Watch castle. I knew, as a man raised by Ned Stark, Snow would forsake his vows to protect his sisters. My spies told me the Northmen hated House Bolton. Most only served them because their lords or sons were prisoners of House Frey. That's when I started sending men to the Riverrun, to treat with Brynden Tully. I knew freeing their bannermen from the Twins would strengthen the forces fighting the Boltons."

'The Blackfish didn't accept our help until after he lost Riverrun and escaped into Whispering Woods," Tristan grumbled. "Proud fool."

Brienne gasped. "Podrick and I went to Riverrun to try to bring Ser Brynden's men north to help fight for Winterfell."

Griff grimaced. "I know. I wasn't happy when my men informed me that they'd found you. But it allowed them to keep you safe."

"Safe?" Podrick ventured, though his voice was soft. "The _Golden Company_ was already in the Riverlands when we went into the siege at Riverrun?"

Tristan snorted. "What? You thought you roamed around a battleground without harm because you look so innocent? The woods and roads were filled with Lannister supporters and cutthroats. You were trying to raise an army to overthrow the Lord Paramount of the North. How did you think you made it in and out of the Riverlands alive?"

Brienne whirled from Tristan to Griff. "You sent men after me?"

She wasn't sure how she felt about that. Had Griff sent men because he didn't believe she would be able to navigate on her own? She'd survived months in the Riverlands during the worst of the War of the Five Kings, taking Ser Jaime back to King's Landing. Of course, that journey hadn't turned out well, with her in a bear pit and Jaime losing his sword hand.

"No, I didn't send men after you," Griff denied. "I knew you could take care of yourself during your search for the Stark girls. But you didn't stop there. You executed Stannis Baratheon, killed Bolton men, and tried to take an army out from under the Lannisters's noses. My men were already in the Riverlands. I merely sent a few to keep your path clear."

Selwyn sighed. "All that time, I feared for Brienne. I would have rested easier had I known the _Golden Company_ was at her back."

"We were only in the Riverlands. The Northmen held the Neck and the North," Tristan admitted. "We shielded her until she and Pod got to the Greywater Watch. After that, it was the Northern forces."

"The Boltons were already defeated by the time we returned to Moat Cailin," Brienne explained. "It was safe to take the Kingsroad after that."

"Thank you." Selwyn looked at Tristan then Griff. "There are no words to express my gratitude. Brienne is my only remaining child. She's everything to me."

Tristan nodded. "She means a lot to us, too." His gaze shifted to Griff. "More so to some than to others." Then his gaze shifted back to Selwyn. "Brienne's Company. We take care of our own."

Brienne exchanged stunned looks with Podrick. They had gone to Riverrun to bring additional forces to help Jon and Sansa regain Winterfell from Ramsey Bolton. She remembered the misery of the people in the Riverlands, the desolation of the burned down farms and broken spirits of the smallfolk trying to band together in ruined villages. She and Podrick had moved quickly and quietly, staying to the woods to avoid unnecessary contact or cutthroats. Had she known the _Golden Company_ had already infiltrated the lands, she might have made different choices.

"If you were in the Riverlands, why didn't you come with us to Winterfell?" Podrick asked.

"We didn't have enough men at the time," Tristan explained. "We had to get to Riverrun without attracting attention and find out how many men Brynden Tully had. It wasn't easy. He didn't trust us and the damned Freys were everywhere. Then we had to send a team to shadow you."

"By the time we brought in enough forces, Winterfell was already back in the Stark's hands." Griff picked up the story. "We decided it was better to stabilize the Riverlands instead of going North. Then an assassin killed most of House Frey. We knew we had to strike the Twins, _hard_, before anyone else did."

"Brynden Tully found us," Tristan continued. "He didn't have many men but he knew the land. The Twins fell easily enough, once we had enough forces to sneak in and take on the remaining guards."

"The assassin wasn't from the _Golden Company_?" Podrick looked from Tristan to Griff. "I heard the killer was a girl. That had to be a disguise. How could a girl kill all those Frey men?"

Tristan opened his mouth then closed it without speaking. He looked over at Griff. Griff looked at Jon Connington. Podrick, Ned, Varys, Selwyn, and Brienne also turned to look at the Lord Paramount. Jon sighed.

"We believe the assassin came from the Faceless Men," Jon said. "They're a society in Braavos who worship death, though they call it the Many-Faced God. Their temple is called the House of Black and White. They train assassins to disguise themselves and kill as directed. The Faceless Men can be anyone or, as they like to say, 'no one'. Someone put a contract out on House Frey."

Brienne stilled. She remembered hearing about the Faceless Men when Qyburn took credit for poisoning the Frey men at the Twins. He'd claimed his little birds had handed his potion over to the assassin. He had aided in the murder of the Frey men and avenged House Stark after the Red Wedding.

_Qyburn sighed. "I mourned the lost opportunity until my little birds informed me a girl had killed Walder Frey's sons. They said she was so quick and light, she moved like a dancer. The only assassins who move like that are Braavosi and the only girls who can kill like that come from the House of Black and White. I told my little bird to greet the girl with 'valar morghulis.' If she replied 'valar dohaeris' the bird was to tell her where to find my tonic and how to use it. A few days later, House Frey paid for turning to the Lannisters."_

_Jon reacted to that, jerking in his seat to exchange shocked looks with Brienne. The Freys had murdered King Robb, his pregnant wife, Talisa, Lady Catelyn and the Stark bannermen. Qyburn had aided an assassin into avenging the Red Wedding. A Braavosi assassin who moved like a dancer, a girl who could water-dance. Brienne had only met one such girl in Westeros. In fact, she'd crossed blades with her – in Winterfell. _

"Nearly the entire Frey male line and their fighters died in a single night. How is that possible?" Ned questioned. "I've heard of the Faceless Men. Their services can be bought but the price is high. Who could afford to pay for the death of that many men?"

"That is a mystery," Jon admitted. "There are very few houses left in Westeros that are wealthy enough to pay for that much death."

"The only houses with that much wealth are in Dorne, the Vale or until recently, the Reach," Varys confirmed. "Highgarden was bankrupted, the Vale lords were neutral at the time and the Dornish prefer to kill their enemies with their own hands. None of them would have contracted the murder of House Frey."

"What about the Lannisters?" Selwyn suggested. "They had all the gold at Casterly Rock."

"No, they didn't." Varys contradicted with a smug smile. "Cersei Lannister thought the Rock had run dry and allowed the Unsullied to seize it. She sent her brother to ransack Highgarden to pay for the _Golden Company_. A large portion of the Casterly gold was mined and taken to Harrenhal, waiting to be transported to Braavos."

"Genna Lannister Frey is now Lady of Casterly Rock and Lady Paramount of the Westerlands," Jon added. "We've given her significant incentive to pledge her loyalty to House Targaryen."

Brienne stilled. She knew how they'd ensured Genna Frey's loyalty. Griff had explained it back in King's Landing.

"_Put yourself in Lady Genna's place. She knows most of House Frey's male line has been decimated after they murdered the previous King in the North and his kin. The new King in the North is the bastard son of the same family; is marching north with two armies, dragons and wildfire; destroyed the last of House Bolton with his bare hands; and will probably burn the Twins to ashes for what House Frey did to his kin and their bannermen. Lady Genna's children are all male Freys. What would you do?"_

_Brienne gasped softly. The Freys had broken guest rights, another egregious sin in Westeros. They'd turned against House Stark and had, along with the Boltons, allied with House Lannister. The Boltons had been wiped out of existence for their crimes. Ramsey Bolton had been beaten to a bloody pulp by Jon Snow before being put to death by Sansa Stark. Most of the Frey men were dead. Genna's sons carried the name of traitors while the King in the North, the same man who had fought to reclaim Winterfell, marched through the Riverlands with two powerful armies and dragons at his back._

_Brienne's eyes widened. "I'd do whatever I could ensure my family's survival."_

Much of Casterly Rock's gold had been taken to aid in the war effort. What remained was in the care of the Lady Paramount of the Westerlands. Many of the Westerlands troops were marching north to fight in the Great War. Genna Lannister Frey was forced to depend on Harry Strickland, the _Golden Company_ and the Dornish forces for security. She knew her people's future and her sons' lives depended upon the goodwill of the powerful heads of the other regions and the newly resurgent House Targaryen.

Selwyn shifted to sit down on the settee Griff had abandoned. He hesitated and looked up at Griff, who continued to stand. Griff didn't see Selwyn's hesitation. His focus was centered on Brienne. Etiquette demanded subjects stand while the king stood and never sit down before he did. Griff was no ordinary king and the people around him were no ordinary subjects. These were the people who had fought for him, shared his blood, and spoke blunt truths. They were the people he trusted.

Selwyn sat down gingerly and looked around at the other lords, none of whom had stood when Griff did. Catren immediately scrambled into Selwyn's lap. Gallan also shifted closer, pressing into him. Allwyn shrieked indignantly, startling Jon who jerked in his seat. Everyone looked at the blue dragon as it flew across to Selwyn. He put his arm around the visibly annoyed dragon when it landed beside him. Fortunately, Selwyn's arms were wide enough to encompass all three at the same time. Allwyn laid its head against his side and allowed itself to be mollified.

Podrick brought the conversation back on track. "Who hired the assassin? There are no families in Westeros who cared enough or had enough gold to pay for his, err, her services."

"Maybe no one," Brienne suggested.

Everyone turned to look at her but Brienne didn't notice. Her focus turned inward, on the image in her mind's eye, of her fight against Arya Stark in the Winterfell courtyard. Arya had asked to train with her and drew a small, thin rapier.

"_You can't use that, my Lady. It's too small," Brienne had explained. _

"_I won't hurt you, don't worry," Arya had assured._

"_I'll try not to." Brienne had held _Oathkeeper_ in both hands, amused by the young girl's spirit._

_Arya's light touch and razor-sharp reflexes had surprised Brienne. Arya had even gotten a point on her. Then Brienne had focused, amusement forgotten. Arya, tiny but fierce, had caught her lower leg before the fighting spirit had taken over Brienne. She'd kicked Arya to the ground when she had the opening. Arya had jumped to her feet in a swirling motion Brienne had, until then, only seen Griff perform. Then they'd fought in earnest until Brienne disarmed Arya. Even then, Arya hadn't quit. She'd pulled out a dagger, flipped it from one hand to the other, then held it to Brienne's chin as Brienne held _Oathkeeper_ to Arya's throat._

_They had both stopped then, fully in control of their actions, even after such an intense battle. They'd exchanged smiles, both breathless and pleased to have fought such a worthy opponent to a draw. Arya's smile had grown to a delighted grin as she'd sheathed the dagger._

"_Who taught you how to do that?" Brienne asked._

"_No one." Arya's smile had become enigmatic. Then she'd walked away._

"Are you saying the assassin killed House Frey without contract?" Jon Connington demanded, regaining Brienne's attention. "The Faceless Men don't work that way. There's always a price for death."

"It's not just a calling but a religion," Varys added. "They believe the deaths they grant satisfy the Many-Faced God. They often take the faces of the people they kill to the House of Black and White."

"Faces?" Podrick's own face paled. "Why?"

"They use blood magic to assume the identity of the dead," Varys explained.

"You mean they wear the dead person's face as a mask?" Podrick looked even more disgusted.

"Not as a mask, as an _identity_," Varys stressed. "It's said a Faceless Man takes on the memories, the characteristics and even the dreams of the face they wear. A short person becomes tall, a man becomes a woman, an old crone turns into a young lad. Their magic allows them to become the person whose face they wear."

Shock washed through Brienne. The Faceless assassin couldn't be Arya Stark. The girl wasn't a hardened killer. Had she simply said 'no one' in an off-handed manner, perhaps as an attempt at modesty? Arya could water dance with a similar style and grace as Griff. Many people who'd been trained in Essos fought that way. Arya had skill but that didn't mean she had the fortitude or ruthlessness to be a Faceless Man. True, the Freys had murdered her mother, brother, and new sister, as well as Robb's unborn heir, direwolf and Stark bannermen. It must have enraged Arya when she'd learned of their murders. Could the she-wolf be angry enough or bloodthirsty enough to commit such cold-blooded, planned killings?

Brienne remembered her fury when the Queensguards had tried to use their crossbows against Gallan and Allwyn. Her rage had nearly blinded her. She'd slashed Ser Boros's throat without hesitation and would have killed the others, too, if given the chance. But she was a trained warrior, a former Kingsguard and physically strong. Arya was half her size and so light, Brienne had kicked her nearly half-way across the courtyard, even when she'd controlled her kick.

"My Lady Ser?" Podrick called to her. "Are you well?"

Brienne shook her head to clear it. "I'm fine. I was just trying to think of who could have paid for the murder of House Frey."

"Does it matter? We used it to our favor," Tristan pointed out. "The Riverlands are better now that the Tullys have both Riverrun and the Twins. Jon Snow's march to Harrenhal brought a lot of men out of hiding. He'll take anyone who wants to fight."

_Jon Snow_. His name reminded Brienne of her anger at Griff's deception. She turned to her king. "I know your tactics. You haven't distracted me from the discussion of Jon Snow."

Griff placed his hands on her upper arms in a comforting gesture. "I'm not trying to distract you, Brienne. We'll discuss it now. His past wasn't relevant at the time."

Behind him, Selwyn stiffened at Griff's familiar touch. Brienne stepped back so his hands fell off her arm. She frowned, trying not to be placated by his reasonable tone. Griff was a master manipulator, able to communicate with people in a manner that twisted their conversation to his benefit. It was hard to win an argument against him.

"That doesn't matter," she insisted. "You were wrong to keep the truth of Jon Snow from me."

Griff dropped his hands and kept his expression calm. "Information shared at the wrong time or for the wrong reason can be detrimental, Brienne. That's why I never pushed you to tell me your secrets until you were ready."

She flushed. "You already knew many of my secrets, just like you knew about Jon Snow. Why didn't you tell me?"

"What did Jon Snow do?" Selwyn asked. "What's this about?"

Griff closed his eyes briefly, the only sign that what he was about to say affected him. "Jon Snow isn't Ned Stark's son." Griff turned to face her father. "He's Rhaegar's bastard."

An unnatural calm fell over the men. Brienne heard the cries of the silver eagles, seen outside the study windows, in the silence. Jon, Varys, and Tristan were unmoved. They clearly already knew the truth of Jon Snow's birth. Podrick and Selwyn stared blankly at Griff, as if waiting for Griff to say more. Ned Dayne was the only one who looked visibly stunned by the information. Ned's violet eyes were wide and his mouth dropped open.

"What do you mean?" Ned demanded. "You told the Dornish lords Jon Snow might be my Aunt Ashara's son by Ned Stark."

"I lied." Griff grimaced. "I knew I was the prince who was promised and would claim _Dawn_. I simply needed a chance to hold it. So, I lied to the Dornish lords to bring you to King's Landing to prove my claim."

Ned glared at Griff. "Why didn't you travel to Starfall? Why did you force us to travel to King's Landing under the farce of parlay?"

"It wasn't a farce," Griff defended himself. "It was for parlay. Crowning me the Prince of Dorne stopped bloodshed between Dorne and the capitol. I _am_ the son of Elia Martell and the _Sword of the Morning_. _Dawn_ had chosen."

Ned continued to glare at Griff but didn't speak. Griff sighed and moved closer to his cousin.

"I know you feel betrayed, Ned, but consider my situation back then," Griff urged. "I was trying to help all of Westeros. The balance of power in the capitol was changing rapidly. Jon Snow was marching north with my aunt. They'd put Tyrion Lannister, the idiot who'd tried to negotiate with slavers, in charge. Worse, Brienne and the dragons were alone in King's Landing. I had to stabilize the Seven Kingdoms and protect my family."

"We weren't alone," Brienne protested.

"You were surrounded by Lannisters, their army and their supporters." Griff gave her a sharp look. "You're a powerful warrior but you have a gentle heart. You already consider the Kingslayer your friend. His blind obedience to his sister nearly destroyed the kingdom. His imp brother is half his size but twice as dangerous. Podrick and even the dragons show Tyrion favor."

"The dragons are good judges of character, your Grace. Lord Tyrion has faults, I know. Even so, he had always been good to me and to those who served him." Podrick flushed but spoke up to defend his former lord.

"The kingdom will never serve a Lannister again," Griff vowed. "Tywin Lannister's legacy died with him. I won't forget the harm his ambition caused my family and Westeros. House Lannister will never be the power it once was."

This time it was Brienne who put her hand on Griff's arm. He'd kept his voice even but didn't attempt to hide the fury that darkened his eyes. Tywin Lannister's ambitions had caused so much destruction but Tywin, like all of them, had served the Gods' plans. The realm had bled and the people had suffered to bring them to this moment. The Gods' couldn't focus on defending only the great houses. They had to save all of humanity. Their warriors were moving into their necessary positions. Griff was rebuilding the kingdom while Jon and Daenerys were mounting their defense against the Night King. The three heads of the dragon, even unknowingly, were working together towards the same goal. Their union would defeat the Army of the Dead.

Selwyn had soothed Gallan and Allwyn to the point that they'd shifted and stretched out the settee. Catren curled up in his lap, equally calm. The dragons were relaxing but Selwyn was still tense. He frowned up at Griff.

"How do you know Jon Snow is Rhaegar's son?" Selwyn looked at Griff then turned to Jon Connington.

The Lord Paramount sighed and looked to Griff. Instead of replying, Griff turned to Brienne. Everyone, including the dragons, looked at Brienne.

"How did you determine Jon Snow was Rhaegar's bastard. Brienne?" Griff asked.

"The dragons," she explained. "As you said, the dragons show favoritism to Lord Tyrion. Even so, they never allowed him to touch them. Jon Snow could hold them from the first time they met. Ardayn jumped into his arms. Catren demanded his attention and purred when Jon held it. Until then, only you were able to make Catren purr. Who, but blood or bond, could do that?"

Griff scowled at hearing Jon could make Catren purr. He walked over to Selwyn to scoop the brown dragon out of his arms. Catren went eagerly, curling itself around Griff, elongating its body as he stroked its back. Almost as if to soothe him, Catren snuggled into him and purred. Allwyn quickly scrambled into Selwyn's lap. Gallan, relaxed and comfortable, barely moved from its position at Selwyn's side.

"Jon Snow had met the dragons for the first time at Dragonstone," Brienne continued. "He had no bond with them but they went to him immediately. I didn't understand at the time because of how overwhelmed I was to have the five back with me."

"Jon Snow told us of his connection to his direwolf, a magical creature," Podrick reminded her. "We thought that might have given him a connection to other magical creatures."

Ardayn and Serdun were also relaxed, stretched out on either side of Podrick. They were sleepy-eyed now that the tension between Griff and Brienne had passed. Even so, Brienne noted that the two, the most independent of the dragons, pressed against Podrick in an uncharacteristic need for comfort. They were as upset as the other dragons by arguments between their parents.

"Then Griff said Ned Stark had gone to Dorne to collect his sister's bones and his bastard son," Brienne added. She raised her brows at Griff. "Which brings me back to my question. How did you know Jon Snow was born in Dorne? No one knew where he was born, including Jon himself."

Griff stilled. He turned to look at Jon Connington. The Lord Paramount grimaced then nodded. Both Griff and Jon glanced over at Tristan, who shrugged his shoulders. Varys sighed softly and settled into his chair as if trying to find a more comfortable position. Ned, Selwyn and Podrick looked at the other men, their brows furrowed and mouths downturned.

"It was among the visions I received in the ice cave," Griff admitted. "When we were in the cave north of the Wall. I saw Jon Snow's birth in the visions."

"You told us only that your only vision was of the man with long, grey hair and roots piercing his body," Brienne recalled. "He told you 'The flame is truth, trust the fire' over and over again."

"You said the words repeated in your mind all night," Podrick added. "You didn't mention any other visions."

"That's because the Lannisters and their spies were all over the capitol," Griff explained. "I don't trust them. They have no right to my secrets."

"But we do," Ned said quietly. "We're the people you trust. You didn't tell us the full truth then. Tell it to us now."

Griff nodded. "The words did repeat all night and I kept seeing the old man. But I also had two other visions. The first vision was of the Ice Dragon."

"The Ice Dragon?" Ned repeated. "Do you mean the constellation in the sky?"

"It was," Griff confirmed.

"That's how you knew to look for the Ice Dragon in the Dragonstone cave," Podrick suggested. "Those carvings had been there for thousands of years but no one knew how to understand them. Your vision gave you the key to understand the images. Your mind already knew what to search for."

Griff paused to consider his words. "You may be correct, Pod. I didn't think about the vision when we were in the cave but I knew where to look."

"What happened next in the vision?" Brienne prompted

Griff nodded. "I was out on a dark night, on the shores of a lake. The Ice Dragon's blue eye shone so brightly I looked up at it. As I watched, the constellation tore out of the sky. The stars flew into the flowing waters before me. Then I saw chunks of ice in the water, as we saw when we were on the Antler River, near the cave."

"Was it the Antler River in your vision?" Selwyn asked.

Griff shook his head. "I didn't recognize the location. It was too dark to identify landmarks. All was quiet in the vision for a moment. Then fire broke the ice and an ice dragon flew out of the water."

"Do you mean the stars flew out?" Ned asked.

"No, a dragon made of ice," Griff clarified. "It was as perfectly formed as any of these five but bigger and made of ice instead of scales. It flew out of the water and into the sky. That's where the vision ended."

Selwyn glanced out of the windows to the courtyard that held a fallen star. "A constellation of stars tore out of the sky, flew into waters so cold ice floated in them. A moment later an actual ice dragon emerged from the waters."

"I know it sounds unbelievable," Griff admitted.

Tristan snorted. "No, it doesn't. We've seen fire-breathing dragons, fallen stars, blind-eyed eagles, and the Army of the Dead. Ice dragons make perfect sense to me. After the Night King, it's the natural progression." He turned to grin at Podrick. "Progression is how lords improve things to make life better for their people."

Podrick nodded solemnly. "Yes, Lord Selwyn explained that wise lords must always be ready to make changes. They face new threats and conditions every day. A good lord always plans for his people's care."

"It's good you're learning from Lord Selwyn but not now, Tristan. Focus on the matter at hand," Griff ordered.

Tristan scowled at him. "First you're annoyed because I wasn't acting like a lord. Now you're upset because I _am_ acting like a lord. Maybe if I birth a few dragons for you, you'll respect me, too."

Griff's jaw stiffened and he turned to face Tristan. "Any creature you birth will be less dragon and more dragonfly, both in size and strength."

Tristan flushed and opened his mouth to retort.

"Stop!" Brienne ordered.

She glared at both men. Their sniping was such an ingrained habit neither could control himself. She normally ignored them but this wasn't the time. She spoke up quickly, unwilling to allow their antics to distract the conversation.

"Griff, what about the third vision?" she asked. "You said you saw Jon Snow's birth."

Griff turned away from Tristan. He took a moment to settle the now-sleeping Catren on the settee beside Selwyn. The brown dragon didn't even stir as it was transferred from his arms to the cushions.

Griff flexed his arms. "The last vision was of red sands, a burning sun, and a tower made of red bricks. There were two men guarding the tower. Both wore Targaryen Kingsguard armor. One of the men carried _Dawn_."

"My uncle?" Ned jerked. "You saw Arthur Dayne in your vision?"

"I believe so, though I never had the pleasure of meeting your uncle," Griff replied, his voice tight. "He left with Rhaegar when Lyanna Stark disappeared."

"I have met Ser Arthur," Jon reminded them. "Aegon's description matched Arthur. Also, _Dawn_ chooses its own wielder. Who else would carry it other than the _Sword of the Morning_?"

Ned considered then nodded. "That's true."

"That's how I identified Ser Arthur in my wraith dream, too," Brienne noted. "He twirled _Dawn_ in one hand and another sword in the other."

"Ser Arthur and the other Kingsguard were met by a group of riders. Ser Arthur stabbed _Dawn_ into the sand before him. The men exchanged words then they all drew their swords," Griff continued.

"Who were they?" Podrick leaned forward as though to hear the story better. Even so, he kept his hands on the dragons dozing on either side. "What did they say?"

Griff shook his head. "I couldn't hear the words they exchanged."

"Based on Aegon's description and the rest of the vision, I believe the man talking to Arthur was Ned Stark," Jon said. "Ned had a favorite patterned jacket he wore that exactly matched the one in Aegon's vision. Aegon has never seen Ned or his clothes."

"So, the men exchanged words then drew their swords," Ned summarized. "My uncle took up _Dawn_, naturally."

Griff, who'd opened his mouth to speak, suddenly froze. Everyone exchanged confused glances at the arrested expression on his face. Brienne put her hand out to touch his arm.

"Griff, what's wrong?" She tugged his arm gently to regain his attention.

He turned his head to look at her but it was clear from his unfocused stare that his gaze was still inward. Brienne looked at her father but he was as puzzled as she was. Jon Connington held up his uninjured hand in an indication for silence. Brienne released Griff's arm, realizing he was reviewing his memories.

"No." Griff's voice was forceful but his gaze was still inward. "That's not what happened."

"What do you mean?" Tristan demanded. "Before you told us the men talked, the Kingsguards put on their helmets and drew their swords, then the other men drew their swords."

Griff blinked rapidly, an indication that he'd broken out of the memories. "Yes, that's what happened. But Ned pointed out what _didn't_ happen."

"Huh?" Tristan stared at him blankly. "What didn't happen?"

"Arthur didn't pick up _Dawn_," Griff announced.

"How can that be?" Ned demanded. "My uncle was the world-renowned _Sword of the Morning._ You said he stabbed _Dawn_ into the sand before him. Why wouldn't he take up _Dawn_?"

Griff shook his head. "I don't know. It's very clear in my vision. Arthur put on his helmet then drew two swords from his sword belt, one for each hand."

Brienne drew in a deep breath. "It was the same in my wraith dream. _Dawn_ was stabbed into the ground. Arthur drew two swords from his sword belt, one for each hand. Then he threw _Bright Star_ to Ser Jaime and took up _Dawn_. Ser Arthur had _three swords_ in my dream."

"Was it the same in your vision?" Ned asked. "Did my uncle drop one of the other swords and pick up _Dawn_?"

"No, he fought with the ordinary blades, both of them at the same time." Griff's gaze turned inward again. "He was an extraordinary swordsman. He handled both swords with unmatched skill, twirling the blades and fighting against four men at once. His skill was beyond anything I'd ever seen. I couldn't look away."

"My uncle was the _Sword of the Morning_. His skill was legendary," Ned reminded. "Ser Arthur Dayne was known as the greatest swordsman in the world. No one contradicts it."

Brienne went to join her father on the settee. She pulled Catren into her lap. Gallan, drowsy and comfortable, was snuggled between Brienne and Selwyn. The blue dragon barely moved when she sat beside it. Instead, its dark reptilian eyes shut completely as it absorbed the warmth of its family.

"Then why wouldn't the _Sword of the Morning_ use _Dawn_?" Podrick asked. "It's been said that _Dawn_ made Ser Arthur unbeatable. What was the significance of him not using it in your vision?"

Griff shook his head. "I don't know."

"The vision continued." Jon Connington settled back in his seat. He covered his damaged hand with the other, as though the hand pained him. "Tell them the rest."

Griff nodded. "Yes, after watching Ser Arthur fight against four men at once, the vision changed. It was a girl with long, dark hair lying in a bed of blood. She was crying as a child passed out of her body. Ned Stark burst into the room, holding _Dawn_. The sword was bloody. He laid the sword against the foot of the bed and went to the girl. They spoke then the babe was placed in his arms. A moment later the girl died."

"You think the girl in the vision was Lyanna Stark?" Selwyn made the question sound more like a statement.

"Why else would she be guarded by Kingsguards?" Jon asked reasonably. "We know Rhaegar left with Ser Arthur and Ser Oswell Whent. The other Kingsguard in Aegon's vision matched Ser Oswell's description."

"You think your vision showed that Ned Stark took his sister's child as his own. He returned to Winterfell with a bastard that wasn't his," Brienne concluded. She stroked Gallan's back as she spoke. "Lord Ned besmirched his honor to protect his sister's son from Robert Baratheon's wrath. Robert hated the Targaryens and even sent assassins after Rhaegar's young brother and baby sister. Robert wouldn't have allowed Jon Snow to live if he blamed the baby for Lyanna's death."

"That's what we believe," Griff agreed.

"You said you went north of the Wall six months before I came to Braavos," Brienne recalled. "So, you've known for more than a year now that Jon Snow is your half-brother."

"I suspected," Griff corrected. "I didn't know for certain the vision was true."

"You were drawn to the cave by dreams of a three-eyed crow, snow, icy fingers, and a blood-red ruby. Once north of the Wall, you found the crow, snow, the cave, and _Dark Sister_ with its ruby centerpiece," Varys recounted. "I think it's safe to say your visions are true."

"Did…did your vision show how my uncle died?" Ned asked hesitantly. "How could Ned Stark, an inferior swordsman with an inferior sword, defeat the _Sword of the Morning_?"

Griff shook his head and grimaced. Ned sighed heavily.

"Perhaps because he didn't use _Dawn_," Varys suggested quietly. "Even King Aerys believed it was _Dawn_ that allowed Ser Arthur to triumph over all other equally legendary swordsmen, such as Ser Barristan Selmy."

Brienne remembered Varys telling her and Ned as much. They'd been waiting for Griff and Podrick to finish their inspection of Dragonstone Castle.

"_If _Dawn_ is so important to the fate of humanity, then why not spare my uncle?" Ned questioned. "Ser Arthur was the greatest swordsman in the world. Even Prince Aegon, who has fought with _Dawn_, acknowledges that my uncle was the finest swordsman who ever lived. Arthur Dayne had no equal."_

"_Actually, Lord Ned, he did have an equal," Varys disagreed gently._

_Ned scowled. "Jaime Lannister? You jest, Lord Varys. Even with both sword hands, even with two swords, the Kingslayer will never be my uncle's equal." Ned turned to her. "I'm sorry, Lady Ser Brienne. I know Ser Jaime is your friend. I mean no disrespect."_

"_I took none," Brienne assured him. "Ser Jaime idolized your uncle. He freely admits Ser Arthur was the greatest knight in Westeros."_

"_Ser Barristan Selmy," Varys said quietly. "I had the honor of watching Ser Barristan train with Ser Arthur. It was mesmerizing to see them. They elevated sword fighting to an art. Each stroke, each turn, every thrust was perfect. Aerys, before his descent into madness, used to say he was glad they were both his Kingsguards. He said if they turned on each other, the battle would never end. They were so evenly matched in speed, strength and skill that only _Dawn_ would make Ser Arthur the victor."_

"_Because _Dawn_ wasn't needed then," Brienne explained quietly. "King Aegon is young, fast and strong. Ser Arthur, were he still alive today, would be in his middle years, no longer as fast or as strong as he was in his prime."_

She thought Ser Arthur had died because the _Sword of the Morning_ had risen too soon to be an effective warrior in the Great War. Ser Arthur in his middle years wouldn't have been as fast or as strong as he once was. She thought the Gods had chosen Griff for his speed, skill, and youth.

Could she have been wrong? Could Ser Arthur Dayne have died because he didn't fight with his legendary sword? But why would he have failed to take up _Dawn_? He'd been chosen by _Dawn_ to be the first _Sword of the Morning_ in over two hundred years. _Dawn_ was nearly a guarantee of victory in battle. Then, later in Griff's vision, Ned Stark had laid _Dawn_ beside Jon Snow's birthing bed. Ned could not wield _Dawn_. Ned Stark had been an honorable man who'd protected his sister's bastard son and returned _Dawn_ to Starfall. Had he taken the sword after Arthur fell? Griff did say that the sword was bloody when Ned laid it at his dying sister's bedside.

Then it occurred to her. The realization was so shocking that she froze. _Dawn_ was made from the heart of a fallen star. _Jon Snow had been born under a bleeding red star_. She and Griff had been born the night a red comet had streaked across the sky. That star only appeared to bleed because of its tail of red-hot fire.

Rhaegar thought Aegon was destined to lead to the revival of House Targaryen. But hundreds of children had been born that same night, under that same falling star. The comet had crossed over both Essos and Westeros. Were all those babies destined for meaningful futures because of it? That seemed unlikely. Jon Snow, however, had been the _only_ babe to enter the world under an actual blood-soaked red star. Were Griff and Rhaegar wrong about Griff's destiny?

Was Jon Snow really the prince that was promised?

**Author's Note:** I'm sorry I didn't post last week. My computer had a hard drive failure. I advise everyone to have a good backup drive. It was a million times easier restoring data than to would have been to cry over lost files, movies, and family photos.

What did you all think of this chapter? I told you in my author's notes for chapter 53 that Arthur Dayne's contribution wasn't finished. I directed you to the major clue in chapter 52 and in the episode **Tower of Joy**.

I was so excited, as a viewer, when I saw Arthur Dayne didn't pick up _Dawn_ in the show. I thought it was a sneaky clue to future events. Sadly, it turned out to be just another continuity error. However, it is an important clue in my story. Why did Arthur Dayne have three swords at the Tower of Joy? Why didn't he fight with _Dawn_?

I'm eager to read your ideas! I love your feedback, especially since I still don't have a beta reader. Please let me know what you think of the story and how it's going.


	62. Perception Keeper

The Keeper

Chapter 62 – Perception Keeper

"Jon Snow was born with _Dawn_, the sword of the stars, above his head." Brienne tried but failed to keep the quiver out of her voice.

The men all turned to look at her. Griff, Jon Connington, and Tristan exchanged confused glances. Selwyn, Varys and Podrick, who'd been with her in the _Chamber of the Painted Table_ stilled, stared at her with their eyes wide. Ned, who was struggling to absorb all the new information, frowned as he looked at the others.

"I don't understand," the Lord of Starfall admitted. "What is the significance of Jon Snow being born with _Dawn_ at his bedside?"

"The prince who was promised was prophesied to be born under a bleeding star," Brienne explained. "Jon Snow, the grandson of Aerys and Rhaella line, was born under an actual star dripping with blood, a bleeding star. He could be the prince who was promised."

"No, he can't," Griff denied swiftly. "I am. 'The prince who was promised will bring the _Dawn'_. I'm the Prince of Dorne and I'm the _Sword of the Morning._ That makes me the prince who was promised. I was born under a red star as it crossed the night sky."

"There are many prophecies about the promised prince," Varys reminded them. "Some are even used interchangeably with stories of Azor Ahai and the Last Hero."

"We discussed this on Dragonstone," Selwyn looked at Varys. "You said then that the Red Witch confused prophecies."

"_That witch may say King Jon is the prince or Queen Daenerys is the princess who was promised to bring the dawn. Don't believe her. She has her prophecies mixed up and falsely interpreted visions because of it." Davos finished. _

"_Why do you say that, Ser Davos?" Missandei asked. "What prophecies did she confuse?"_

"_I remember her lies as clear as day. She told them to Stannis often enough." Davos's gentle face flushed with remembered fury. "She called him Azor Ahai and said 'you are he who must stand against the Other. The one whose coming was prophesied five thousand years ago. The red comet was your herald. You are the prince that was promised, and if you fail the world fails with you.' Well, Stannis is dead and the world still stands, doesn't it?"_

"_The red comet," Selwyn murmured. "I'd forgotten about that." Then he smiled. "But that was a busy night. Brienne was being born that night."_

_Everyone stared at Selwyn then Brienne._

"_Odd, she doesn't look like a young child to me," Tyrion commented. "The red comet was seen about four years ago, if I recollect correctly."_

"_Yes," Daenerys agreed. "That was the day my dragons were born."_

"_There was another red comet," Varys said quietly. "And another prophecy. 'When the red star bleeds and the darkness gathers, Azor Ahai shall be born again amidst smoke and salt to wake dragons out of stone.' She confused or joined the prophecy of the prince who was promised, who was born under a red star and Azor Ahai, who would wake dragons from stone under a red star."_

Podrick continued to look worried. "Ser Davos warned us about mixing up prophecies. He said Melisandre, the Red Witch, thought Stannis Baratheon was the prince who was promised. She did everything in her power to make him so, including sacrificing innocents and giving him a false burning sword."

"Stannis was no true prince." Varys's mouth curled in disgust. "He was a weak, foolish man grasping for power he didn't understand. He allowed himself to be swayed by the lies of a fanatical Red Priestess. As I said then, she confused or joined the prophecy of the prince who was promised, who was born under a red star and Azor Ahai, who would wake dragons from stone under a red star."

"We know Prince Aegon is the prince who was promised," Ned insisted. "_Dawn_ is the proof of that."

"Queen Daenerys thought she was Azor Ahai because she woke dragons from stone," Podrick added. "Her dragon eggs were as hard a stone until they hatched in her husband's funeral pyre. The red comet was seen over Essos the morning of their birth."

"But we agreed she could not be," Varys argued. "She isn't a warrior. Even though she carries a sword now, she isn't strong enough to fight with it."

"_Dragon's Eye_," Brienne murmured. "Daenerys named her sword _Dragon's Eye_. In his Grace's vision, the dragon's eye was so bright it drew his attention to the Ice Dragon."

Selwyn gasped suddenly. Brienne turned to look at her father. He'd gone pale and his hand had stilled on Allwyn's back. The blue dragon slept peacefully, curled up in his lap, as did Gallan between them and Catren in her lap.

"Father, what's wrong?" she asked sharply.

Selwyn opened then closed his mouth without speaking. Everyone looked at him with concern, except for the young dragons. They were lost in their dreams, unaware of the revelation that had so shocked their grandfather. Griff exchanged worried looks with Jon Connington. The Lord Paramount held up his uninjured hand, advising Griff to be patient.

"Selwyn?" Jon asked quietly. "What is it?"

Selwyn responded to his old friend's voice. He turned his head to look at the Lord Paramount. Selwyn frowned, as if he couldn't understand why Jon was there. Then his expression cleared and he turned back to the others.

"The dragon must have three heads," Selwyn announced. "The witch was right."

"She was _not_ right," Brienne growled. "Melisandre killed innocents by burning them alive, even children. She's a monster. Sacrificing those who don't want to die is murder, not an honorable offering."

Selwyn blinked rapidly as he regained himself. "Yes, murdering innocents is wrong. That's not what I meant. Lord Varys said she confused or joined prophecies, thinking the promised prince and Azor Ahai were the same person. That's where she was right. _The dragon must have three heads._ All the prophecies must join to describe the various aspects of the three-headed dragon. Three heads with a single purpose."

There was absolute silence for a moment as everyone absorbed Selwyn's words. Griff nearly fell into the chair beside Tristan. Tristan, uncharacteristically serious, watched worriedly as Griff's face paled with shock. Varys and Jon Connington exchanged stunned stares. Brienne exchanged an equally shocked look with Podrick. Only Ned wasn't silenced by Selwyn's announcement.

"The dragon must have three heads," Ned repeated. "Rhaegar thought he would have the three children prophesied to bring dragons back into the world. Princess Elia was only able to birth two so Rhaegar produced a bastard with Lyanna Stark. Jon Snow was that child. Daenerys was born after Princess Rhaenys died. Dragons fly again so the three heads do exist. Prince Aegon, Jon Snow, and their aunt Daenerys are the living children of Aerys and Rhaella's line, the three heads of the dragon. Lord Selwyn, you're saying no oneperson must have all the characteristics, but all the characteristics must join to describe the three-headed dragon."

Selwyn nodded solemnly. He was now composed enough to resume stroking Allwyn. He also glanced down to check on Gallan sleeping at his side. Brienne, seated on Gallan's other side, drew a deep breath as she tried to compose her chaotic thoughts.

"What are the aspects?" she asked. "What prophecies do we know?"

"The prince who was promised will bring the _Dawn_," Ned offered. He nodded at Griff. "That's Prince Aegon."

"He shall be born again amidst smoke and salt to wake dragons out of stone." Podrick looked at the dragons sleeping on either side of him. "Or _she_ shall. Daenerys is the Mother of Dragons."

"A warrior shall draw from the fire a burning sword. And that sword shall be _Lightbringer_, the Red Sword of Heroes, and he who clasps it shall be Azor Ahai come again, and the darkness shall flee before him." Brienne quoted.

Selwyn shook his head. "You're _Lightbringer_. You are the Gods' instrument."

"Jon Snow gave her that title," Podrick explained. "She is the light in the darkness. But my Lady Ser is not a burning red sword."

Even as the words left his mouth, Podrick gasped. He and Brienne exchanged grim glances. Then they both spoke as one.

"_Ice_."

"House Stark's Valyrian steel sword," Griff spoke, his voice tight and controlled. "Shattered by a lion then reforged by dragonfire. Bathed in his daughter's blood, then cleansed by dragonfire to remove all signs of the lions and the stags that had defiled it."

"The sword of House Stark is _Lightbringer_?" Tristan asked.

"It could be," Griff answered slowly. "It's the only Valyrian steel sword in existence known to be destroyed and then reforged."

"Not just reforged," Varys murmured. "Reforged by dragonfire, by fire made flesh. By the Gods' magic."

"The Lannister rubies melted onto the steel," Podrick added. "It gives the sword a red glaze. And the sword has already burned."

"Explain again how the sword burned," Jon requested, looking around at Brienne, Podrick, Ned and Griff. "_Exactly_ how it caught fire."

"It happened so fast, I'm not clear on the details," Brienne admitted. "Cersei was trying to kill Ellaria Sand. Podrick was protecting Ellaria. He was shocked still when he saw Ardayn burn Ser Gregor. Cersei attacked him with her sword. Podrick threw himself on the floor to cover Ellaria."

"After missing me, Cersei tried to attack my Lady Ser. Sandor Clegane grabbed Cersei's throat," Podrick recalled. "She stabbed him and he released her before she died. She couldn't breathe but hadn't yet suffocated."

"Serdun and Gallan were at my side. They fired on Cersei," Brienne continued. "I stopped them but not before Cersei's gown caught fire."

"_Ice_ was lying on the ground." Griff picked up the story. "The Kingslayer picked it up and used it to give his sister a merciful death."

Jon Connington leaned forward in his chair. "Think back carefully, Aegon. When did the sword burst into flames?"

Jon directed the question at Griff but it was Ned who responded.

"It didn't," Ned insisted. "I was behind Cersei when she was stabbed. The sword's tip appeared between her shoulder blades then caught fire from her burning dress."

"So, it caught fire. It didn't suddenly burst into flames. Is that correct?" Jon prodded.

Griff and Ned looked at each other, silently comparing their recollections. Both nodded to each other.

"Yes," Ned agreed. "The sword didn't spontaneously burst into flames. It was lit." His expression grew thoughtful. "That's the only way I've seen swords on fire."

Jon straightened. "You've seen _other_ swords catch on fire?"

Ned nodded. "I squired for Lord Beric Dondarrion, my Aunt Allyria's betrothed. He was killed by Gregor Clegane. I guarded his body until Thoros of Myr asked the Lord of Light to bring him back. After that, Lord Beric was able to light his sword on fire by coating it with his blood."

Selwyn and Jon stared at Ned, then looked at each other, before looking back at Ned. Brienne understood their shock and confusion. She'd probably had the same expression on her face when she'd first heard about Lord Beric's many resurrections. Tristan, seated at Selwyn's desk, shifted in his seat.

"Are you saying Beric Dondarrion is one of those Wights you fought at King's Landing?" he demanded.

"No. Wights are dead creatures, often decayed," Ned explained. "Lord Beric is very much alive though diminished. He's weaker and thinner and rarely eats. I asked him what he wanted me to say to my Aunt Allyria when I returned to Starfall. He said he had no words because he had no memories of her. They died with his first life. He said another piece of his soul is missing each time he comes back."

"Each time?" Selwyn repeated. "How many times has he come back?"

"Three times while I was with him," Ned answered.

"Sandor said he killed Ser Beric in a trial by combat but Ser Beric returned," Brienne recalled. "Were you with them then?"

Ned shook his head. "No, I'd already been sent back to Dorne by then. Lord Beric didn't want me in the Riverlands during such dangerous times."

"You're saying Lord Beric came back from death at least four time?" Selwyn clarified. "He was truly dead but a Red Priest brought him back?"

Ned nodded solemnly.

"How?" Tristan demanded.

"I don't know," Ned admitted. "Thoros said he merely asked. The Lord of Light saw fit to bring Lord Beric back."

"And Lord Beric can light a sword on fire with only his blood," Jon added. "That must mean he has some type of fire magic in his blood."

"Magic or not, Lord Beric cannot be the third head of the dragon," Griff pointed out. "There's no evidence of a union between a Targaryen and a Dondarrion. Jon Snow, however, has blood ties to House Stark and, likely, blood ties to House Targaryen."

"We're meeting Jon Snow at Maidenpool. We'll give him _Ice_ and explain his heritage to him," Brienne decided.

"Doesn't he already know his heritage?" Podrick questioned. "Even if Ned Stark never told him about his birth mother, Jon Snow should know he's immune to fire. Wouldn't that have been a clue to his bloodline?"

Once again, the room became silent. Podrick looked around at them in their silence.

"Isn't the blood of the dragon how you both proved you were dragons?" Podrick continued. "You've both survived fire and dragonfire. Hasn't Jon Snow noticed he doesn't burn?"

"I never tested it," Brienne admitted. "Most children are taught to avoid fire. I didn't know until Drogon fired into the cave to birth these dragons." She laid her hand on Catren asleep in her lap and smiled at Ardayn and Serdun sleeping beside Podrick.

"I found out accidently many years ago," Griff explained. "I was tending a fire when it flared up at me. The flames raced along my shirt. Lord Jon ripped off my shirt but I had no burns. That's when he explained fire cannot harm a dragon."

"So, it's possible Jon Snow doesn't know he has the blood of the dragon," Selwyn surmised. "Do you plan to simply hand over the sword and announce he's the third head of the dragon?"

"I don't think we should act so hastily, my Lord," Varys advised. "My spies at Harrenhal tell me Snow is honorable and forthright. Many men have come to join him because he favors Ned Stark in more than just appearance."

"I saw Jon Snow's expressions when I delivered Lady Sansa to him at Castle Black." Brienne's voice thickened as she recalled their reunion. "At first, he stared at her. It was as if he couldn't believe she was truly there. He came down the stairs and across the courtyard slowly, unable to look away from her. She was breathing so heavily I feared she was in distress. He stopped and they looked at each other. Then they practically flew into each other's arms. His eyes were closed and he held her as if he would never release her."

Tears stung her eyes as she remembered the desperation with which Jon and Sansa had held each other. They'd both suffered terrible times, believing they were alone in the world. Then they had each other, stronger together than they'd been apart. Their union, their combined efforts, had made Jon the King in the North.

"Jon Snow loves his sister, I mean, his cousin, more than life," Podrick added. "He didn't want to fight Ramsey Bolton until Bolton threatened Lady Sansa. Snow regained Winterfell and defeated Bolton's men to keep her safe."

"He wouldn't have defeated the Bolton forces or regained Winterfell if it wasn't for the Knights of the Vale," Griff pointed out but he spoke gently. "There must have been distrust in Snow and Sansa's relationship. She didn't tell him about the Vale forces. The Northmen wouldn't have attacked until they had the Valemen to flank the Bolton men, if Snow had known."

Brienne nodded. "You're right. Sansa didn't tell Jon Snow about meeting with Littlefinger. You must remember, Jon and Sansa had been apart for years and had suffered terribly. They needed time to trust each other, which they didn't have then. It's different now. Jon left Sansa in charge when he went to treat with Daenerys because he trusts her."

"Speaking of your aunt," Varys interjected smoothly. "Daenerys was furious to learn of your existence, your Grace. She was even more angry to learn Lady Ser Brienne's loyalty is to you, not Jon Snow. She wanted to return to King's Landing to stand against you. Jon Snow convinced her to continue the march north. She will be even more furious to learn Snow is the third head of the dragon. I believe demanding Snow join you will upset both Snow and your aunt."

"Lord Varys is right," Jon Connington agreed. "Jon Snow's identity and his power derive from being Ned Stark's son. It may destabilize the armies to learn he's Rhaegar's son. The Northmen fought against your father in Robert's Rebellion."

Selwyn and Ned nodded in agreement. Varys tucked his hands into his sleeves and sat back in his chair. Tristan grunted quietly and looked to Griff. The king frowned thoughtfully but Brienne shook her head.

"We're gathering armies to fight an enemy who wants to enslave us all, Northmen and dragons alike. Our focus should be on building the three-headed dragon, on making the army of men as strong as possible," she argued. "Egos and power are not as important as defeating the Night King."

"My Lady Ser, power resides where men believe it resides. No more and no less." Varys leaned forward again. "The army of men will only stay together if the people believe in their leader. The collation may fall apart if the people following Jon Snow, which currently includes Daenerys, the Dothraki, the Unsullied, and the Ironborn, believe he lied to them."

"But they've followed Jon Snow for all these weeks," Brienne protested. "They know who he is. He's known for his honor."

"The _Stark_ honor," Griff emphasized. "Some will believe he lied deliberately if they find out he's Rhaegar's bastard, not Ned Stark's."

"People are not that foolish," Brienne insisted. "Jon Snow didn't lie, the truth was hidden from him, too."

"Will people really believe that once they learn he's immune to fire?" Jon Connington asked. "How can a man who doesn't burn believe he's anything other than a dragon? Only dragons can withstand fire."

"That's a false argument," Podrick pointed out. "As my Lady Ser said, we're all taught to avoid fire. Jon wouldn't have known unless he'd been burned. Bastard or not, he was raised as a high lord's son. He didn't make campfires or cook meals."

There was a faint bitterness in Podrick's words. He'd been born into a lesser branch of House Payne. His father had been a squire and had abandoned Podrick at a young age. Podrick had learned to cook and build fires at a young age, for his own survival.

"Even a false argument can convince people, especially if the people want to believe it," Ned pointed out. "I suspect Daenerys, in her anger at finding another who can challenge her claim to the throne, will believe Snow purposely lied."

"Even those who aren't angry but don't know differently will also believe a well-crafted lie," Varys agreed. "The smallfolk in King's Landing admired Joffery. They thought he was noble, brave and generous."

"Joffrey?" Podrick repeated. "Joffrey _Baratheon_? How could that be?"

"It's true," Varys insisted. "I was in the crowd at the Sept of Baelor before his marriage to Lady Margaery. They came out and waved to the smallfolk. The people cried his name and cheered for him. Do you know why?"

Podrick frowned and looked to Brienne for support. She returned his frown and shook her head. Ned and Griff exchanged glances but didn't speak. She and Podrick both looked at Varys.

"No," Podrick admitted. "I can't understand why anyone would cheer for Joffrey the Cruel."

"Queen Margaery was intelligent and shrewd, as befits a woman trained by Olenna Tyrell. She knew her success as queen depended on making Joffrey appear to be a great king." Varys tucked his hands back into his sleeves, as was his habit. "Margaery worked with the poor and orphans. She told of how Joffrey led the defense of King's Landing against Stannis, how he cared for the people and credited him for sending the leftovers of their great feasts to the deserving."

"History is always written by the winning side, Podrick," Griff picked up the explanation. "The victor determines what is written in the history books and what is sung in the taverns. Margaery understood that and manipulated events to her and Joffrey's favor."

"But Margaery was truly good and kind," Brienne insisted. "I met her many times, when I served in Renly's Kingsguard and in King's Landing. She remembered me kindly, always treated me with respect and introduced me to her grandmother."

"Margaery was a fine queen," Varys agreed, "to three different kings. She would have continued to be a great queen, if she'd lived. But Margaery died. Cersei didn't have Margaery's cunning, skill, or diplomacy. She couldn't hide her true character the way Margaery had hidden Joffery's cruelty and Tommen's weakness. If Margaery had remained queen, she would have lifted Tommen as she'd lifted Joffrey. Their legacies would have remained secure."

"And the people would continue to see the Lannister bastards as noble, brave and just." Griff paused, then looked directly at his guardian. "People believed the same of Rhaegar."

The Lord Paramount drew in a deep breath. Jon's eyes flashed angrily as he faced Griff. "Rhaegar was _nothing_ like Joffrey or Tommen nor like Aerys or Robert, for that matter."

Griff held his gaze. "Rhaegar was the Prince of Dragonstone, raised to be the next king. He grew up believing – and seeing – he could do anything. Rhaegar was just like Joffrey only Rhaegar focused his energy on building the three-headed dragon. Imagine if Joffrey had a similar goal and purpose, wouldn't he act just like Rhaegar?"

"Aegon," Jon sighed. "Please, not this again."

Silence fell as the king faced his guardian. Jon's face was heavy with remembered sadness. Griff sat very straight, not releasing Jon's gaze. His indigo eyes burned with internal fire, fed by rage and loss. They both agreed this was an old argument but time and repetition hadn't softened the pain or their convictions.

Griff pushed on relentlessly. "The smallfolk 'loved' Joffrey because Margaery told them of his good deeds. Was it the same for Rhaegar? Who, other than the people who had a vested interest in maintaining Rhaegar's image, knew him well enough to make first-hand judgement?"

"I did," Jon snarled, swiftly moving from sadness to anger. "I knew Rhaegar better than most. I loved him and trusted him. Every decision he made was for the good of the realm. You're not a child anymore, Aegon. You are the King of the Seven Kingdoms. Put away your anger. It's your duty to put the needs of your people above your own."

"I am putting their needs first," Griff insisted. "I'm doing everything in my power to stabilize the kingdom as we face the Great War. The people might succumb to famine and disease even after we defeat the Army of the Dead."

"How do you intend to defeat the Army of the Dead?" Jon countered.

"With the armies of men and the three head…" Griff trailed off.

"The three heads of the dragon," Jon finished for him. "You, Daenerys, and Jon Snow, the son Rhaegar sacrificed everything to bring into this world."

"Including my mother and sister," Griff hissed.

Jon shook his head. "You fault your father for doing his duty, for putting the kingdom and his people before his own happiness. Was Rhaegar wrong for being willing to sacrifice _everything_ for humanity's survival?"

"Couldn't he have acted in a way that would have protected my mother and my sister?" Griff demanded. "They wouldn't have died if Rhaegar had thought to send them to Sunspear instead of leaving them at Dragonstone. He deliberately put them in harm's way."

"What about Brienne and the dragons?" Jon asked. "Did you deliberately put them in harm's way?"

Griff hissed in his breath and stiffened. Beside him, Tristan turned to him and scowled. Brienne looked at Podrick, who looked back at her with wide eyes. Beside her, on Gallan's other side, Selwyn's eyes narrowed as he stared at Griff.

"I never put them in harm's way," Griff denied hotly.

"During the battle against the Army of the Dead at King's Landing," Jon elaborated. "Brienne and the dragons, your _children_, faced the horde of Wights while you and the people were safely behind the city's walls and ramparts. Was it your intention to leave Brienne behind to face the threat alone?"

Color rushed into Griff's face as he shook his head. He turned to look directly at Brienne. Her face also flushed as she ducked her head. Griff hadn't intended to leave her behind. He'd been ready to jump down, to stay at her side, until she'd stopped him. Griff was the king but he wasn't infallible. Too many circumstances were beyond his control. She wanted to protest, to defend her king, but she knew this was an important conversation. Jon was Griff's guardian and his most trusted advisor. He had a perspective that Griff didn't yet understand or accept.

"No," Griff answered forcefully. "I never intended for Brienne to face the threat alone."

"Yet you think your father intended to leave you alone," Jon pointed out. "Terrible things can happen in the heat of the moment. I wish it could be different, but it's not. Aegon, you must release the past to move into the future."

Jon's words were wise but Griff appeared to have trouble accepting them. The dark color still flushed his cheeks. He had the Martell hot blood. It was that same passion and drive that had led his Uncle Oberyn to sacrifice his life to avenge Elia. It was the same impulsive nature that had almost led Griff to jump off the ramparts to fight at her side. The difference was Griff, unlike Oberyn, had wise advisors to guide him.

"It was different," Griff insisted but his tone had lost much of its heat. "I didn't know what was coming at us. Rhaegar knew his father was unstable. He should have sent us to Dorne before he left with Lyanna Stark."

"Perhaps," Jon agreed. "Perhaps you might have died on the journey to Sunspear. Perhaps Elia's brothers would have raised their banners and marched on King's Landing. Maybe Rhaegar might have died before conceiving Jon Snow. Might Jon Snow have died in that tower in Dorne? Many things could have happened but we are here now. Would it matter if Rhaegar's family lived a few more years if all of humanity is enslaved by the Night King?"

Griff scowled. "You speak as if Rhaegar knew about the threat of the Army of the Dead."

"No, he didn't know about the exact threat, but he knew there _was _a great threat. Rhaegar knew the destruction of the world was coming and he was the only one who saw it," Jon insisted. "We know about the Army of the Dead. Rhaegar didn't but he sacrificed to prepare for it anyway. He died, Elia died, even Lyanna Stark and Queen Rhaella died, so humanity could live. Your father is one of the greatest heroes in the army of men."

Jon looked at Selwyn for support. The Lord of Tarth looked back at his friend with sympathy, his eyes dark and serious. Selwyn cleared his throat and frowned. Then he turned to Griff, his face smoothing into the calm expression he used when listening to petitioners.

"Your Grace, I understand the loss of your family pains you greatly. There is not a day that goes by that I don't think of my dear Allyna or my brave Gallandon." Selwyn paused and cleared his throat again. "This life takes so much from us but it also gives. I have my wonderful daughter, a fine young man who will one day be a great knight." He smiled at Podrick who blushed bright red but smiled back with obvious pride. "And five extraordinary gifts from the Gods unlike any other." He looked around at the sleeping dragons. "Your father has left you with a tremendous responsibility but he has not left you alone to discharge it. He did what he did not knowing the cost but willing to pay it, regardless."

"You've worked hard and you've learned, Aegon." Jon Connington spoke up, his tone was now calm again. "But you haven't sacrificed as your father did before you. There will come a day when you must give up what you want for the good of the people. Then, and only then, will you understand his choices. Only then will you be able to judge him."

_Your father is one of the greatest heroes in the army of men._

History would judge if Rhaegar Targaryen would be remembered as a great man or a selfish prince who had sacrificed his legacy for his lust. How he would be remembered would depend on their success against the Army of the Dead. The three heads of the dragon were alive and well. Magic was strengthened and dragons had been reborn because of their births.

Rhaegar had completed his quest to father the three heads of the dragon but at a terrible cost. Nearly his entire family: his parents, brother, wife, daughter, and paramour had all died, as had whole swaths of the Westerosi people. Would it be worth it? Thousands had died in wars since and thousands of others had been maimed, traumatized, and still suffered.

Would their sacrifices – and Rhaegar's – save Westeros and possibly the whole world?

**Author's Notes**: As you know, these talky-talky chapters are where most of the clues are hidden. Do you see the battle plan forming?

I don't have a beta reader so please let me know if I need to make corrections.

Also, I need to create a song to describe Brienne but I have no musical talent. Can any of you think of a few lines that could describe our favorite lady? All I can think of is "to find a knight who is true, find the dragonknight in blue." See? I'm no good at this! Help me, please! Of course, I will credit the wonderful lyricist when I use your lyrics.


	63. Sight Keeper

The Keeper

Chapter 63 – Sight Keeper

Brienne turned onto her side in her childhood bed, in her childhood bedroom. Moonlight lit the room with its flat, depthless illumination. Her gaze settled on Ardayn and Serdun asleep near the unlit hearth. Podrick had wisely suggested bringing along the cushions the dragons had already shredded in King's Landing. That allowed them to build familiar nests wherever they went. Her devoted guards had settled easily in the cushions and extra bedding. Their busy day had allowed them to fall quickly into deep sleep. The dragons felt safe here. They were guarded by Company men they'd known their entire lives; who'd trained with them, ate with them, and slept with them.

Brienne looked past the dragons to the driftwood mantle over the hearth. Two more dragons were perched there. The moonlight had robbed the miniature dragons of their vibrant blue and indigo colors but not their grace. Here, in the shadowy world between wakefulness and sleep, she could almost believe they were alive. A curious sense of warmth and satisfaction filled her as she looked at the wooden carvings. The feeling was nothing like the unconditional love and fierce commitment she felt for the five. Of course, her devotion to the dragons was indestructible. The young dragons were gifts from the Gods, while the carvings were gifts from the rightful king. The dragons and the Gods' influence were intertwined. Still, the king had ensured her gifts from the Gods were disciplined and safe. The Gods had shielded the king, allowing him to grow into the great leader he was becoming.

_Your father is one of the greatest heroes in the army of men._

Jon Connington was sure Rhaegar Targaryen was a great man. He'd seen Rhaegar's actions as sacrifices; a gentle musician forced to become a warrior and the savior of humanity. There were few men alive who could judge the former Prince of Dragonstone, who had heard anything other than the carefully censored tales told in court. Fewer men still lived who had known Rhaegar. Even her father, who considered Jon Connington one of his closest friends, barely had an impression of the real Rhaegar. Selwyn Tarth was an honorable man. What did he think of Rhaegar? Did her father believe Rhaegar was a good, misunderstood man?

She blinked and, suddenly, she was in a different room. The lord of the keep was stretched out, flat on his back, on soft cushions. Something moved beside him. The shadows made it hard to see details. She blinked again, causing the room to change. The shadows receded and her vision cleared. The moonlight had washed away all color but even the smallest detail was now sharp and clear. The man shifted and a column of flame slithered across his abdomen. She blinked and the room went back to moonlit darkness. The fine details became fuzzy and shadows filled the corners again. The column of flame lying across the man's midsection was a dragon. They were both asleep, the dragon's head rising and falling with each of the man's deep breaths.

She blinked and the image changed. This room was almost as large as the other. This room also had a man lying among the cushions. The man was long and lean, as was the dragon by his side. She blinked and the shadows receded. Her perfect vision showed the two columns of flames curled together, their fire barely contained by the skin or scales that covered them. She blinked again and the sharp clarity faded. She went back to seeing the sleeping man and dragon.

The image changed again. Another, smaller room had a young man curled into a ball, also lost in sleep. This room was much darker, the moonlight barely penetrating enough to add light. She blinked and saw a column of flame curled at the young man's back. She blinked again, changing her vision to see only the man. The dragon was lost to the darkness but she knew it was there, sleeping beside the man.

She blinked again and was in another room. Her perfect vision showed two columns of flames curled up on the floor. She blinked and her perfect vision changed, allowing the shadows to darken the edges. Now she could see the dragons were curled on cushions, close to each other but with a small distance between them. Her gaze swept up the room to see two smaller dragons perched on a branch. She blinked and the shadows disappeared. Every detail of these dragons was visible but they had no fire. These were not _real_ dragons. She blinked again and allowed the shadows to reappear. The false dragons stood unmoving, unlike the true dragons, whose bodies rose with each deep breath. She looked past the sleeping dragons to the other occupant in the room. As she watched, the person's eyes popped open.

"Stop! Who are you?" Brienne sat up in her bed, her hand automatically reaching for her sword.

Ardayn and Serdun, awoken by her shouts, rose and screeched. Brienne scrambled out of her bed and rushed to the window. She'd left it open to enjoy the cool, salty sea air and the fresh breeze. She looked down to see the guards below.

"Who goes there?" she demanded.

One of the men patrolling looked up at her. "It's Ser Wendell, my Lady. I mean, my Lady Ser."

Behind her, she heard her bedroom door thrown open but Brienne ignored it. She focused on the man who had served her father longer than she'd been alive.

"Have you seen anyone lurking around about, Ser Wendell?" she asked.

"No, my Lady. We've been on patrol since sunset. No one's been here who shouldn't be here," Wendell assured her.

"Was it the eagle?" Another voice, this one with a thick Braavosi accent, asked. "They like to sit in the windows."

"Lord Selwyn ordered us not to disturb them," Wendell explained. "One just flew away from your windowsill, my Lady."

"Brienne, what's wrong?" Griff's head appeared beside her own at the window. "Who's out there?"

"Ser Wendell and a few other guards," Brienne explained. "I…I was just making sure all was well."

She turned back to the room, suddenly aware of how odd her and alarming her actions were. Selwyn and Podrick were also in her room. They held torches while Catren, Allwyn and Gallan settled beside Ardayn and Serdun. Jon Connington, Ned, Tristan, and Varys hovered in the hallway outside her door, looking into her room. The torches lining the hallway allowed her to see the concern on their faces.

Griff was still leaning out the window. "Thank you for your service, everyone. Your dedication is much valued and appreciated."

There were responses from several voices. Griff continued to talk to the men. Brienne laid her sword against her bedside table before crossing to join her father and her squire.

"Brienne, what happened?" Selwyn asked. "I heard your scream then Allwyn began shrieking when I couldn't open my bedroom door fast enough."

"My door wasn't fully closed. Gallan was gone by the time I lit my torch," Podrick offered.

Brienne stared at them. "Father, you let Allwyn sleep in your bed? Podrick, you did the same with Gallan?"

Her father and her squire exchanged sheepish glances. Podrick looked nervously at Griff, who was still talking to the men below. Jon Connington, standing just outside the door, stared at them in sleep-deprived, bewildered confusion. Ned, Tristan, and Varys exchanged glances out in the hall, looking nearly as confused.

"I know his Grace discourages allowing the dragons to sleep with us," Podrick admitted quietly. "I didn't mean to disobey him. Gallan just came with me."

Brienne snorted. "He's not one to judge. He allowed Catren into his bed."

Selwyn's eyes widened. "How do you know that? His room is on the second floor."

Griff came back to join them, hearing the end of Selwyn's question. "Who are you referring to, Lord Selwyn? All of us have rooms on the second floor, except Podrick."

Selwyn turned to Griff, his eyes narrowing dangerously. "How does my daughter know you let Catren sleep with you?"

Griff raised his eyebrows and looked from Selwyn to Brienne. "I don't know. What is this about? Brienne, why did you call out and alarm everyone?"

"I…I thought I saw someone at the window," she admitted.

Griff's eyebrows remained raised. "On the third floor?"

She shook her head, hoping the mellow torchlight hid her flush. "It could've been the eagle perched on my windowsill. Or maybe I dreamt it."

"You knew his Grace was sleeping with Catren from your dream?" Podrick questioned. "Is this another of your prophetic dreams?"

A murmur came from the hallway. Brienne looked over and hissed in her breath. Servants had come to join the lords standing outside her door. She glanced down at herself and blushed deeply red. She wasn't one of those women who went to bed in sleeping gowns. Years of living on the road had taught her to be prepared to fight at a second's notice. Still, she was disheveled and not fully dressed, as was everyone else drawn from their beds by her sudden cry.

Selwyn turned to face the Lord Paramount, who was standing awkwardly outside his daughter's bedroom door. Selwyn looked past Jon to the other lords waiting out in the hall and the servants beyond them. The Lord of Tarth's eyes widened as he realized they had a large audience. He stood his full height and glared at the assembled crowd. The servants hurried away while the lords shifted further back.

"This is inappropriate," Selwyn insisted. "Only family is allowed in a lady's chamber, especially at night. Everyone, return to your beds."

This time it was Griff who hissed in his breath. The rightful King of the Seven Kingdoms didn't take orders. Though Selwyn was the Lord of Tarth and they were sheltered under his roof, Griff was still the king. No one commanded him. Griff straightened to his full height, which made him as tall as Selwyn. The king's indigo eyes flashed dangerously. Jon crossed the room in four large strides, drawing Griff's attention.

"I believe Brienne will appreciate it if we all give her a moment to collect herself." Jon put his injured hand on Griff's shoulder while reaching out for Selwyn with the other. "Selwyn, perhaps you should open another bottle of your fine spiced rum. I think we all can use a drink to settle ourselves before we return to our beds." Deftly he put his uninjured hand on Selwyn's arm, encouraging him to leave with them.

Brienne stared at the Lord Paramount's injured hand. In his haste, he'd forgotten to cover it with the black leather glove. The back of his hand was ghostly pale and bloodless, almost white. His wrist and most of his forearm were equally pale, except where they were streaked with raised, shiny splotches of red. It looked as if someone had grabbed his wrist and left permanent bruises.

Griff didn't seem to mind Jon's disfigured hand on his shoulder. He looked back at Brienne but allowed his guardian to lead him toward the door. Ned, Varys, and Tristan moved aside to make room for them to exit. Allwyn and Catren left Brienne to join them. The sleepy dragons pressed themselves against the men they favored. Selwyn and Griff automatically caught the dragons, allowing them to settle into their arms. Jon gasped and stumbled to a stop.

"Lord Jon, what is it?" Griff demanded.

"The dragons won't hurt you, Jon," Selwyn assured. "They know who you are now."

Jon wasn't listening to them. He stared at his injured hand resting on Griff's shoulder. Catren, as any sleepy child would do, had laid its head on Griff's shoulder, _over Jon's injured hand_.

"I can feel it," Jon whispered, staring wide-eyed at Catren. "It's so warm."

Griff turned his head, careful not to move Catren's head or dislodge Jon's hand. Catren, tired after an early start and the reunion with Selwyn, was almost asleep, its dark, reptilian eyes nearly closed. Tristan, still standing in the hall, leaned forward.

"Are you sure, Lord Jon?" he asked. "Do you feel Catren's head or Griff's shoulder?"

Jon was silent for a moment. "Neither. I feel heat on the back of my hand. I don't feel scales or Aegon's shoulder." He paused, as if checking his senses. "My hand tingles."

"Podrick, help Lord Jon remove his hand," Griff ordered quietly.

Podrick hurried to join them near the doorway. Griff bent his knees so Podrick didn't have to strain so much to reach his shoulder. Her squire gently raised Catren's head so that Jon could lift his injured right hand with his other hand. He held it up to his face and they all stared at it. The hand, which had been almost white before, was now several shades pinker, as if the blood flow had improved. The angry red markings were paler against the now more natural color of the Lord Paramount's injured hand.

Jon looked from his hand to Catren then back to his hand. "Fire magic. The fire magic is healing the damage from ice magic."

"Ice magic?" Brienne repeated. "Your hand was injured by ice magic? What happened?"

She directed the question to Jon but the Lord Paramount with still staring his hand with excited fascination. She looked to Griff in time to see him exchange glances with Tristan. Griff's indigo eyes darkened and his expression became suspiciously bland. Brienne knew that look. Her king was thinking through his options, deciding what to share and what to continue to conceal.

"Griff, what are you hiding now?" She didn't care if she sounded angry or even accusing. He'd said they were the people he trusted with his life. He wasn't allowed to keep secrets from them. "What happened to Lord Jon to cause that injury? Did it occur in the ice cave?"

Griff stared at her with his blank gaze. She caught her breath as a mixture of hurt, anger and disappointment tightened her throat. She would not allow him to shut her out any longer. She was a part of the new world he was creating, his sworn sword. _She belonged_. They had made vows to each other, to protect and respect. He must honor his vows to her as she honored her vows to him. She was about to speak when his mouth softened and the fire returned to his indigo eyes.

"Let's make ourselves presentable and meet in Lord Selwyn's study," Griff suggested. "I think we'll all need a glass of spiced rum while we tell this tale."

.***.

A short time later they gathered in the study. This time, Griff sat in an overstuffed chair instead of at Selwyn's desk. Catren flew into his lap before he'd even settled. Jon, sitting beside him, watched the brown dragon with a mixture of awe and gratitude. Brienne shared the settee with her father, Gallan and Allwyn. Both dragons promptly closed their eyes as they absorbed the warmth of Brienne's arms and Selwyn's lap. Ardayn and Serdun curled up on the thick woven rug before the unlit hearth. Podrick sat down beside them but allowed the dragons their distance. The angry tension that had alarmed them during the earlier meeting wasn't present now. The dragons had no trouble sleeping in the calm curiosity that sparked in the atmosphere. Ned, Varys, and Tristan returned to their usual seats.

"Lord Jon, did you injure your hand north of the Wall?" Brienne asked. "While you were in the ice cave?"

Jon nodded then glanced over at Griff. "Yes. I'm not sure how much of the story you already know."

"Why don't you start at the beginning, my Lord? Then we'll know all the pertinent details," Ned suggested dryly.

Jon nodded then looked again to Griff. The rightful king remained silent, stroking along Catren's spine as the dragon slept in his arms. Griff appeared to be content letting his guardian to tell the tale.

"A little over a year ago, I saw Aegon had begun to struggle. He was slow, clumsy, confused, and stuttered when he spoke. I feared he'd been poisoned. Then he told me about the dreams that had taken over his mind," Jon explained.

"A crow with three eyes, white winds, a darkness filled with icy fingers and a blood-red ruby." Griff 's voice was as flat and listless as it had been the last time he'd recalled the dream.

Jon looked at him with sympathy. "The only habitable place with white winds was the Land of Always Winter. I knew we had to go there, given Aegon's deteriorating state. I hired a ship and we traveled north of the Wall. I knew I'd made the right decision when Aegon's health began to return. He was eating, sleeping, and communicating better and better each day."

"Who went on the voyage?" Ned prompted.

"I did, along with Aegon, Tristan, Jon Lothson, Black Balaq and Franklin Flowers on the trip past the Wall. Salla and his crew joined us on the voyage back," Jon answered.

"Salla?" Podrick questioned.

"Yes, Salladhor Saan, the Lord of Rook's Roost," Jon elaborated.

"All those men are now lords of important lands," Varys noted. "Franklin Flowers is the Lord of Cider Hall, Black Balaq is the Lord of Rosby and Lord Loth has been promised his family's former hall."

"Don't forget me. I'm the Lord of Parchment," Tristan added proudly.

He and Brienne both turned to look at Griff. Brienne scowled, half-expecting Griff to make a snide comment, in the way he and Tristan normally exchanged barbs. Griff took in her fierce scowl and merely raised his eyebrows. To Brienne's great relief, he didn't speak.

"They didn't go with us because of future promises," Jon insisted. "They were strong men who had faced and surmounted great challenges. I knew the terrain would be difficult and only the strongest would survive." He looked down at his injured hand. "Sadly, I was the one who dragged the whole team down."

Griff spoke up then, his voice throbbing with emotion. "You did _not_ drag us down. As always, it was your sacrifice that protected me. You're the reason I grew to be king and you're the reason I didn't die in that cave."

Brienne's hand tightened around the glass in her hand, threatening to break it. She hastily put the rum aside to focus on her king. "What happened in that cave? Who came after you?"

"No one came after me," Griff soothed. "We travelled along the Antler River until a snowstorm descended and almost wrecked the ship. The captain refused to take us any further. We then set out on foot, following the three-eyed crow. We spent the night in the ice cave once we found it."

"Where you had visions you didn't tell us about until today," Brienne noted.

Griff opened his mouth to speak but said nothing. He seemed to consider then nodded. Jon looked from Griff to Brienne then over to Tristan. Tristan shrugged his shoulders. Jon continued with his story.

"It was so damp in the cave that we couldn't light a fire. But at least we were out of the biting wind." Jon shivered at the memory. "The next morning, when the sunlight brightened the cave, we saw the flame design on _Dark Sister's _pommel. It was caught in the roots of the trees growing high above us. We fastened a rope with a hook and secured it into the roots. Aegon climbed up to retrieve the sword. He was able to grab the hilt and was trying to tug it free. When that didn't work, he began hacking at the roots with his own sword. We…we're still not sure what happened next."

"It seemed like the roots grabbed him," Tristan explained. "One minute he was fighting the roots then the next they were fighting back."

Jon shuddered, as if the memory was still upsetting. "I was the lightest and the fastest to climb up to Aegon. I used my own sword to hack at the roots trapping him. While I did so, Aegon held onto _Dark Sister_. As soon as he pulled it free, the roots seemed to release us. We were climbing down when I lost my grip. I dropped my sword and used both hands to hold on. Somewhere in the scramble, I'd lost my glove. The roots were so icy and slippery, I couldn't hold on. Then—"

Jon stopped speaking to look at his injured hand again. Brienne exchanged glances with Selwyn then with Podrick. Ned and Varys were equally silent, waiting patiently for Jon to continue. Griff and Tristan hadn't looked away from Jon. The Lord Paramount was still lost in his memories.

"Lord Jon said someone grabbed his wrist and spoke to him," Griff explained quietly

Ned leaned forward in his chair. "There was someone, other than your group, in the cave? Who was it? Was it the old man in your vision? The one who had roots piercing his body?"

"The flame is truth, trust the fire," Podrick recalled. "Those were the words he repeated in your vision."

"Nobody came into the cave after we did and we weren't disturbed during the night," Tristan recalled. "I saw Lord Jon dangling by his trapped arm. The shadows were too dark that high up to see who or what was holding him. Griff was trying to climb down to him. The rest of us linked our arms together and stood under Lord Jon, ready to catch him if he fell. Then he got a good grip with his left hand and Griff caught him. They were able to climb down after that."

"The marks on his wrist and forearm do look like someone grabbed his wrist hard enough to leave bruises," Selwyn noted.

Jon nodded. "My hand slipped. There was nothing for me to hold onto, _nothing_. I didn't grab onto a root. Someone or something grabbed _me_. It grabbed me and I instinctively held on. It was as cold as the iciest root but burned wherever it touched me."

Jon held up his injured hand and rotated it so they could see his palm. The skin on his palm and the inside of his wrist were the same angry, shiny red as the finger-shaped bruises on his forearm. That was when Brienne understood why the damaged skin looked so shiny. She'd seen burns on people before, from cooking fires and torches. The injured skin would melt and pucker, leaving a clear ridge of bruising. But burns came from fire, not from ice. How had Jon managed to burn his hand on icy roots?

"What did the roots say to you, my Lord?" Podrick asked. "King Aegon said someone grabbed your wrist and spoke to you. What did he say?"

Jon's eyes were dark and troubled. He swallowed visibly before he answered. "_Not yet_. Someone caught my wrist and said 'not yet'. He held me until I was able to get a good grip and Aegon was able to assist me. Someone saved me from a fifty-foot drop that might have killed me. He kept me alive because it wasn't yet my time to die."

Once again, Brienne exchanged glances with Selwyn then with Podrick. She didn't disbelieve the Lord Paramount's claim. How could she when the proof of magic and the Gods' will was snuggled against her side and sleeping around them? None of them discounted the possibility of divine intervention, not with all they had already seen.

"Do you think it was the Gods?" Podrick spoke in a hushed voice, reaching out to stroke Serdun sleeping at his side. "They kept you alive to join the Great War?"

Jon shook his head slowly. "No, I think it was Bloodraven."

"Bloodraven?" Selwyn repeated. "Do you mean Bryden Rivers? He died many years ago, while Aerys was still on the throne but not yet driven to madness."

Jon shook his head in disagreement. "Bloodraven was the last known possessor of _Dark Sister_. He'd been sent to the Wall by King Aegon the Fifth. Brynden and _Dark Sister_ were lost in a ranging expedition many years later."

"Jon, he would have been nearly a hundred and fifty years old, if he still lived. No man can live that long, especially in the harsh conditions north of the Wall," Selwyn pointed out.

"Bloodraven was a known sorcerer who practiced blood magic," Varys pointed out. "He was Hand to the King and master of whispers to King Aerys the First. It was said Bloodraven ruled the kingdom with spies and spells. Perhaps one of his blood magic spells allowed him to live to an unnatural age."

"We'll never know." Griff shrugged, as if the matter was unimportant to him. "We took _Dark Sister_ and left as soon as Lord Jon and I were safely back on the ground. It wasn't until we were outside that we saw how badly his hand was damaged."

"My hand tingled and burned for hours then the pain went away. Since then, I lost feeling and control in the hand and wrist. Each day, it became whiter and whiter, as if the skin was freezing from the inside out." Jon held his hand up again, rotating his arm to admire the renewed color.

"And now it tingles again, my Lord?" Podrick prompted. "You're regaining feeling in your hand?"

"I felt the dragon's fire," Jon agreed, "and the color is improving."

Brienne also looked at his hand. "But that doesn't make sense. You said fire magic was healing the damage done by ice magic. If, somehow, Bloodraven had lived that long and had the strength to hold your weight, he's also from the house of the dragon. He was a bastard Targaryen, wasn't he? How could ice come from a dragon, a creature of fire?"

Jon stilled, the color fading from his face. "Ice and fire."

Podrick looked thoughtful. "Ice and fire are the themes for the trip north of the Wall. They went to the Land of Always Winter and found a sword made of dragonfire. Lord Jon was held in a frozen grip, ice, but burned by it, fire. Even King Aegon's visions were of ice and fire."

'No, Pod, I saw a frozen lake and—" Griff broke off, his body stiffening with understanding. "I dreamt of the Ice Dragon falling into frozen waters then of blood spilled under the burning sun of Dorne."

Podrick nodded vigorously. "Yes, your Grace. Ice and fire."

Selwyn wasn't following their discussion. His gaze was still on his old friend. Jon Connington sat very still, no longer looking at his injured hand. His eyes had the glassy look of a man seeing something in his mind's eye. Not even his healing hand was interesting enough to pull his focus from his internal thoughts.

"Jon?" Selwyn kept his voice pitched low, aware of Allwyn asleep in his lap and Gallan at his side. "Jon, what's wrong?"

Jon was still lost to them but Griff heard Selwyn's question. The king leaned forward, careful of Catren sleeping in his arms. He looked closely at his guardian. His action drew everyone else's attention to the stiff, still Lord Paramount of the Stormlands.

"Lord Jon, are you well?" Griff asked.

Jon turned his head to Griff, his expression still dazed. "Ice and fire."

Griff nodded. "Yes, the theme of our trip north of the Wall."

Jon slowly shook his head. "No, not just for trip north. Ice and fire are the theme of your life."

Griff's brows drew together in confusion as he stared at Jon. Brienne looked at Podrick but her squire didn't appear to understand Jon's statement, either. Judging by the befuddled looks on the lords' faces, they were just as perplexed as she was.

Jon blinked rapidly and gathered himself. "You reminded me of an exchange I had with your father shortly after you were born. As you know, your father was an extraordinary musician. His skill with the harp and song was legendary. It was said his music brought grown men to tears."

Griff leaned back, his confusion morphing into impatience. Brienne had noticed before that King Aegon the Sixth had little interest in fawning tales about the man who had sired then abandoned him. Jon held his uninjured hand up when he saw Griff's expression.

"Let me finish, Aegon. This is important," Jon insisted. "I remember congratulating Rhaegar on your birth. He was ecstatic when you were born but still serious and determined. Knowing how much he loved music, I asked him if he would make a song for you. He said Princess Elia had asked him the same question earlier that same day. He would give me the same reply he gave her."

Jon fell silent, lost in his memories. They waited but Jon remained silent.

"Well?" Griff prompted. "What did he say?"

Jon smiled sadly at Rhaegar's son. "He said 'He has a song. He is the prince that was promised, and his is the song of ice and fire'. You, Aegon, are Rhaegar's greatest accomplishment. You are the song of ice and fire."

**Author's Note: **We're getting closer and closer to our battle plan to fight the Army of the Dead. Poor Brienne is, once again, being overwhelmed by the number of clues she is getting in a short time. Do you understand what she missed?

Please let me know if you spot any mistakes. I'm still without a beta reader. Let me know if you have a few hours weekly to be my beta reader. I assure you, I'm very easy to work with!


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